The Lion of Britannia
by Penhaligon
Summary: AU. Lelouch gave everything in pursuit of the perfect world. What if his sacrifice was rewarded with a second chance at life? What would happen if the Black Prince began his machinations seven years earlier, in a very different situation? Will his quest for power lead him to take up the mantle of Zero, or will he stay a prince of Britannia?
1. Prologue

Imperial Throne Room

Pendragon

July 23rd 2010 a.t.b.

The young boy kneeled silently in the centre of the civilized world; the throne room of the Holy Britannian Empire, the heart of western civilization and the lair of the most powerful man on earth. Elegant ivory arches curved up into a high ceiling, held up by spindly gothic pillars. Hooded galleries lined the sides of the rooms, filled with the more important children of the royal family. A raised dais situated at the back of the hall housed the imposing imperial throne and its keeper, the ruler of more than one-third of the world, his Imperial Highness, the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire and the Areas, Charles zi Britannia. Said man loomed imposingly over his young son, his features schooled in a practiced scowl, showing his displeasure at the idea of his son's defiance.

Around Lelouch stood the many nobles of the realm; members of the House of Lords, knights of the realm, esteemed peers and members of the royal entourage. Snakes. Scorpions, the lot of them. They whispered slurs behind perfectly manicured hands, slowly striking lacquered fans through the air, their eyes never leaving Lelouch. Civil smiles graced their faces, some a little too wide to be polite, and he knew in that instant what he was to them; he was an abhorrence, a commoner that should never have been made prince. Their words never reached the prince, but their eyes screamed what their voices failed to say. _Impudent brat. How dare he? The commoner thinks that he can stand amongst us?_ Lelouch knew what they said about him and his family. The snakes would offer 'heartfelt' condolences and smile politely to him, but behind his back they revelled in the death of his mother, the commoner consort, the bitch who thought that she could snare their glorious emperor in her claws. He knew that they celebrated the fall of the vi Britannia family and their associates.

He held no respect for these people, these… cowards who existed at the will and the whim of the emperor. He couldn't fear them or hate them or bring himself to feel anything more than a detached annoyance at their presence. Their positions ensured that they would get what was coming to them. Their corrupt existence grew strong under the shadow of the emperor, but Lelouch knew that without the emperor, their existence was fleeting. He despised the corruption and social Darwinism that they religiously spread across the globe, but not these blind and ignorant puppets. He lifted his head to look at his father.

No. He hated the puppeteer.

The force of the emperor's displeasure pinned Lelouch to his knees. Those purple eyes were colder than ice and held no warmth nor sadness nor rage, only a glacial stoicism that struck fear into his enemies. This was the gaze of the man that had brought nations to their knees, which set both kings and peasants alike aquiver. Lelouch was not one to give into his fears, but for the first time since his mother's death, he felt truly alone in that room, forsaken by his allies and abandoned in the lion's den. The fear doused his anger, cold hands gripping his heart, forcing him to drop his impudent gaze and stare defiantly at his father's feet. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, as the full implications of his actions hit him. He slowly lowered himself to his knees, but kept his gaze fixed on the raised platform, and the steel tips of his fathers- no- the emperor's boot. That man was no father to him. Lelouch wouldn't apologise. He couldn't apologise, not because of some misplaced notion of pride, but because he knew better. He idly wondered how many fallen generals had grovelled on their knees to kiss those boots, before being summarily executed. He refused to join them. If he was to survive this situation, he would have to show strength in the face of death, in true Britannian fashion.

Charles' eyebrow twitched.

The boy was more interesting than he had thought. He knew that his son felt fear, but to hold his nerve and face down the emperor showed true courage. Charles felt a little bit of disgust when he realised that he was proud of the brat. He reminded him a little bit of Schneizel; cunning and decisive, but Lelouch had a fire in him that his elder brother didn't, a fire that separated him from his brothers and sisters. Still, that didn't change anything. The boy had dared to disrespect him and that required a severe punishment. His eyes grew cold once again, and the whispers of the nobles fell silent in a twisted anticipation of the fate of the ten year old prince.

Charles stood and raised his arm, as Lelouch tensed before him. What would it be? Exile or death? Forgiveness was too much to ask for. The emperor simply flicked his hand away, before turning away to return to his throne. He didn't speak. There was no need to. A low groan wafted over the crowd, as Lelouch closed his eyes. He knew what this meant; his transgression was forgiven for now, but not forgotten, by any means. His father had not spoken to him, because the emperor had no reason to speak to filth. Lelouch was under no illusions; in effect, it was a death sentence. In order for him and his sister to survive, he would need to show the emperor that he could still be useful. Plans began to circle in his head rapidly, as the crowd slowly began to file out of the room, occasionally shooting furtive glances or jeering looks at his kneeling figure. To apologise would mean death. To accept the ruling would mean death as well. There was but one path left open to him. Lelouch remembered what he had overheard Schneizel and Cornelia talking about at the Aries villa during his visit a fortnight ago. The second prince and princess had spent nearly an hour discussing the new prototype Knightmare frame, the Glasgow. He had listened, as they talked about Sakuradite, and the delicate and tenuous relationship between the Empire and Japan, home of the largest deposits of Sakuradite in the world. He knew what he had to do, but what about Nunnally?

'_Wouldn't it be safer to leave her on the mainland? No_.' he decided quickly. Without his protection, she would be 'removed' without hesitation, by one of his siblings or jealous nobles.

"Your majesty," he called out, his voice ringing out in the silent, empty room, "your majesty, I apologise for speaking out of turn, but I have a request to beg of you."

Charles looked up at Lelouch, his frigid stare boring into him, staring into his very soul, and stretching out his son's discomfort, before slowly nodding his approval.

"Your majesty, I most humbly ask that I and my sister be sent to Japan, to aid in the negotiations. Our presence may add weight to our claim to the mining rights for Sakuradite in that region." He spoke with an air of elegance and poise about him that few people, his age or older, could hope to match, slowly enunciating each word, as if to stress the strength of his argument.

"Why?" His voice boomed, echoing fiercely around the room. Lelouch flinched minutely. The emperor wasn't questioning his argument, he knew that at least.

_'He wants to know why he should let me escape my punishment,' _he deduced quickly_._

"Because, your highness, regardless of the outcome, you stand with much to gain. Should the Japanese react with hostility, you shall have a legitimate excuse for war that the EU and Chinese Federation could not argue with. In addition, you will have rid yourself of two members of the royal family who were too weak to survive. But, if I succeed, we gain access to enough Sakuradite to create cheap Knightmares that could revolutionise warfare for the next century."

A smug look appeared on the emperor's face, and Lelouch knew then that he was safe, and soon to be on his way to Japan. Outwardly he closed his eyes in relief, but inside his head he was smiling broadly.

_'Objective one: clear.'_

* * *

Lelouch vi Britannia sat in the car, silently, replaying the events of today in his head, as the nondescript black limousine glided through the streets of Pendragon, towards the Aries villa, where his sister and his friend, Milly Ashford waited for him. He briefly wondered how he would break the news to Nunnally that they would be leaving their siblings for a while, before passing the subject over and moving onto more serious matters. He would need to speak to Reuben Ashford about continuing the Ashford Foundation, even in exile. They might require funding, but Lelouch was certainly not short of cash at the moment. The work of the Ashford Foundation could very well become an important factor in the later stages of his plans, if they ever got that far. The Knightmare frame that they had engineered, the Ganymede, was ingenious and it showed the world what the foundation could do with enough money.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the car did, and he was immediately assaulted by a little blond girl, bombarding him with frantic questions. He brushed past her quickly, before running into the villa to search for her grandfather.

"Lord Ashford," he called, when he spotted the elderly man, "It seems that you may have company on your trip to Japan. Nunnally and I have been tasked to aid negotiations between us and Japan. We are to stay with the Kururugi family at their shrine."

"The president of Japan? Little Lord, are you sure-"

"The emperor himself has demanded it." He knew that it was rude to interrupt the man, but they really needed to finish their business before Nunnally got wind of their trip. Judging by the predatory look on Milly's face as she ran from the room, he had between four and six minutes before she would return with his sister, both with crocodile tears in full flow. "Lord Ashford, would you mind doing me a small favour?"

"Of course Lelouch! Anything." The man practically grovelled, anxious to maintain his connections with royalty.

"I would like you to keep the Ashford Foundation running in exile, without my brother finding out about this."

The old man looked apologetic, "Lelouch, I'm afraid that with our banishment, I just don't have the money to keep the foundation running."

Lelouch didn't miss the glint in Reuben's eyes. He knew that Reuben was already set on keeping the foundation running in exile; he just wanted a little money to smooth his debts. Lelouch was very fond of the old man, but he was by no means perfect. His three glaring weaknesses were his greed, his gambling problem and his love for his granddaughter. Lelouch wasn't willing to exploit that third option, but the other two options were ripe for picking. "You will be _handsomely_ rewarded for your efforts."

Lelouch knew that with that, the deal was done. Reuben was trying valiantly to hold back a smile, as his tone turned jovial. "Any particular area of the foundation that you would like me to _improve_?"

"The evolution of the Knightmare Frame sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"I agree, it does sound intriguing." His voice dropped its breezy tone, "Which brother, in particular am I to keep this from?"

Lelouch snorted, an unbecoming act for a prince, but a necessary one nonetheless, "Schneizel, of course. Who else would it be?"

Reuben nodded in understanding, staring at a spot behind Lelouch's head, before shaking hands with Lelouch and quickly excusing himself form the room, wearing a sympathetic expression. Lelouch froze, as the hairs on his neck began to prickle, and he turned to see the spot Reuben was staring at.

"Oh Luuluu," sang Milly evilly.

_'Damn,'_ he thought,_ 'Four minutes and forty seven seconds.'_

* * *

Lelouch closed the door to his room, letting out a tired sigh. It had taken ages to get Nunnally to stop crying, and Milly had certainly not been helpful.

He walked slowly towards his bed, shedding clothes all the way, before he clambered into bed in his boxers, wrapping an arm around the current occupant.

"Well?"

The question was vague, but Lelouch knew what she meant.

"Charles did exactly what I expected." He smirked, before nuzzling his face into the mass of green hair.

"Good." The word was spoken softly, releasing all of her concerns in one simple word, before she leaned back into him. "You act well." She murmured, her breaths deepening as she fell asleep.

Lelouch waved his free hand languidly over his face, revealing the glowing red symbol imprinted permanently on his left eye.

A grin formed slowly on the face of the ten year old, as he lay back down to sleep, behind the witch.

"_Everything was going according to plan."_


	2. Reminiscence

**Disclaimer:** I should probably have put this in the first chapter. I don't own Code Geass, nor is this story for profit.

I got my AS exam results yesterday, and I'm pretty happy, so I decided to upload another chapter early.

* * *

_Lelouch gaped, his mouth opening and closing without making any noise. The imperial convoy had halted abruptly in a shocked silence. Manacled prisoners, shaken civilians and dazed soldiers all stared on at the startling act of brutality. The sword in his chest twisted, and he choked faintly, biting back the pain. From Zero's stance, Lelouch knew that he truly regretted causing his friend so much pain. Lelouch knew that Suzaku shared his agony, that this would be hardest on him, on he who would have to live the rest of his life as a lie, in hiding from the people that he was trying to save. He moved a hand from his chest, to gently caress the mask of his killer._

_"This is your punishment as well." He whispered softly. "You will no longer be Kururugi Suzaku."_

_Zero nodded sharply, before pulling the sword cleanly out of his friend's chest. Lelouch collapsed, as his muscles failed to hold him up any longer, tumbling haphazardly down the steps that led up to the throne, like a marionette with its strings cut. He came to a rest by his sister, staring up at her through unseeing eyes. He faintly heard her call his name, as the darkness that he had valiantly held at bay for so long began to descend. He choked on the blood rising from his lungs, weak tremors racking his body. It would be wrong to say he felt nothing in that moment. He was filled with… regret. Regret about the mistakes that had cost so many so much. He felt the familiar rush of power that he associated with his fully released Geass, extinguishing his lingering emotions. The power in his head built, quickly becoming an excruciating burning sensation._

_A thin red sigil, a glowing brand in the shape of a flying crane, appeared on his forehead briefly, before disappearing altogether, as Lelouch inhaled as deeply as the wound on his chest would allow. _

_'I destroy worlds… to create them anew.'_

_He exhaled painfully slowly, as he closed his eyes, faintly hearing his sister's scream in the distance, before the blackness descended, closing the curtain on his life, all too quickly._

* * *

Lelouch awoke sharply, with a gasp. His right hand found its way to clutch his head as a melancholic ringing echoed through his mind. It had been a while since he had last had a nightmare like this. He was glad that he had woken up then. He had been plagued sporadically by the same nightmare in the two years since he had returned to Britannia from Japan without his sister, and he knew that the dream became ever more terrifying the further it progressed. He remembered quite clearly what had happened next; the feeling of peace, all too fleeting, quickly followed by immeasurable agony, as he was forced through the fabric of time.

C.C. told him that the strain of his death on the strands of the code that they had shared was akin to poking a hole into a soda can after shaking it. His death had caused the powers within the two of them to release, violently, latching onto his feelings of regret, _pushing_ him backwards, giving him the opportunity to face his regrets once more, and expending itself in the process.

The power that they shared had deemed him worthy of a second chance.

It wasn't, however, the smoothest of transitions. The intense pain that Lelouch experienced, as eighteen year old man and ten year old boy melded together to make something that he still, years later didn't fully understand. He wasn't the child he used to be; raised in luxury, with the raw pain of his mother's passing as his only introduction into the world around him. Nor was he quite the amoral and ruthless tactician that had suffered so much to achieve his goals. No, he was somewhere in between and that, to Lelouch at least, was bloody well annoying. He found himself constantly criticising his own actions, being disgusted with himself for being either too cold, and seeing people merely as tools, or being too warm and becoming close to them.

The first month had been a very painful experience. It pained him both physically and mentally to discover who he was and what he could do. The trip through time had unwritten his code, returning it to C.C. until he was ready to take up its mantle again and give her greatest desire to her. Interestingly, his Geass had survived the trip, but it had reverted to its dormant form, lying in his left eye until he requires it. Lelouch had little wish to advance his Geass until he was ready to use it, meaning that he used his hidden power sparingly. His stress wasn't helped by the nightmares that plagued him, straining whatever few hours of rest he could grab. The dreams would always start in the same manner; with his death, but the rest of it varied greatly. Euphemia and Shirley featured greatly, as did Nunnally and Suzaku. His waking hours were scarcely better. He was forced to deal with a newly crippled and blinded sister, who required almost constant care and attention. Lelouch wasn't complaining though. For a man willing to tear down the world for his sister, a few days without sleep was a small price to pay for her happiness. He was also forced to confront the emperor far sooner than he would have liked, despite the thoroughly favourable result of the encounter.

More than anything, Lelouch was tired. A feeling of world-weariness hung around him in those first few months. He was just so tired of the life that he had to lead. He couldn't bring himself to conjure up that fiery passion that had led him to becoming the terrorist, Zero. Lelouch didn't want to change the world anymore; his actions were no longer governed by a naïve love for his sister, nor a misplaced sense of self important vengeance. Instead, his heart was ruled by a twisted idea of duty. He power, making it his duty to change the world; it was his charge to make it a better place for all, but he would do it without sacrifice. People without the will to fight would be protected, as only those who are prepared to be fire should be fired upon. Euphemia… Shirley… Nunnally… they would all be spared the horrors of his war. He knew that he was straying dangerously close to the plans for the world held by his brother, Schneizel, but he cared little. Tired though he was, Lelouch still cared for people; he would not stand idly by while civilians were being massacred.

His nonchalant lethargy all but disappeared upon his trip to Japan. He and his sister had left Pendragon four months after his return to the past, staying in the familiar, for him, setting of the Kururugi shrine. He had been forced to Geass a few members of their entourage in order to smuggle C.C. on board with them, but it was worth it. With V.V. and the emperor staying in Pendragon, it wouldn't be safe for her there. She had been remarkably compliant, but was predictably outraged by the lack of what she called "the basic necessities" at the Kururugi shrine. Lelouch had sighed and told her that before the Britannian invasion, it would be unlikely that she would find many 'Pizza Hut's in Japan. Particularly in a shrine. C.C. was not the slightest bit amused.

His first encounters with Suzaku had been a shock; he had forgotten that his erstwhile best friend used to be so… violent. In any case, after the rough endings to their first few meetings, it had been far easier to befriend Suzaku this time around; as Lelouch remembered what he had said the last time he was in this position. Unlike last time, Lelouch devoted the time, that he wasn't spending reading, scheming or playing with the others, to physical pursuits. He would never be anywhere near as fast or as strong as Suzaku, but after almost a year he was able attain a modicum of physical fitness, something his eighteen year old self probably couldn't achieve. His training had caught the eye of Tohdoh Kyoshiro, who was eager to see his favourite student train with the young prince.

The rest of Lelouch's time was split between playing with Nunnally, Sumeragi Kaguya and Suzaku, and his reading. Japan, being outside the current sphere of influence of the Britannian Empire, was filled with books about a variety of subjects that were banned in Britannian territories. Social and political theses, anti-Britannian 'propaganda' and the histories of defeated nations featured heavily on Lelouch's reading list. Perhaps the most intriguing book was written by a young Britannian political activist, known as John Lennon, who was charged with treason and executed nearly twenty years previously by the 97th Empress of Britannia. His book, 'Imagine', was a treatise on the unification theory that argued that if the world was united without countries, there would be no more need for war. Lelouch agreed with much of what the book said, but he believed that the late Mr Lennon had gone about it in completely the wrong fashion. Instead of dissolving the empire at this early stage of his plan, why not use the empire to unify the world, to shape it into something worth protecting. A benevolent emperor, Lelouch believed, with the support of the military could bring the world together in a matter of a few short years.

This line of argument had presented a dilemma, a rather important conundrum; should he return to Britannia, or stay in Japan. Both ideas held merit. If he returned to Britannia, he would change the timeline, meaning that his foreknowledge would become almost useless. However, if he stayed in Japan, he would be giving up the quickest and simplest route to his goals. He was sure that he didn't want Nunnally to return to Britannia. In Pendragon she would be a tool to use against him, which he couldn't risk. He would give her a normal childhood where she could be looked after by people that she would come to love as a surrogate family. Ashford Academy really was the only place for her to go. She would be fine there with Sayoko, Milly and the rest of the student council looking after her. He didn't think it would be necessary for him to hide Nunnally away, as the emperor was beginning to withdraw from the day to day running of the empire, instead diverting more and more power to his second son. In fact, soon the only person with enough influence, power and cunning to pose a threat to Nunnally while she remained in Japan would be Schneizel, who had no reason to suspect his siblings of anything.

In any case, Lelouch's dilemma had been put on hold when the empire began its invasion of Japan. Suzaku, Lelouch and Nunnally had been forced to pick their way slowly through the war torn country, with C.C. trailing them at a distance, unwilling to reveal herself to Suzaku. The two boys had constantly reassured their younger companion that everything was going to be alright, painting a tempered picture of the gruesome scenes that they encountered on their march to Tokyo. What Lelouch realised in this time, was that the Britannian army, while cold and unforgiving, was also surprisingly clean in their dealings with civilians. It appeared to him that the regular foot soldiers and Knightmare pilots were not mindless; instead, their actions proved that they had no love for unnecessary bloodshed. Incidences of soldiers actively helping civilians were few and far between, masked by the overwhelming tales of carnage as millions of people were uprooted from their homes. However, this proved a valuable point to Lelouch; racism and xenophobia didn't have the same hold in the military as it did in the upper echelons of Britannian society. Essentially, that proved to be the final tipping point in his choice between Britannia and Japan. He had always been leaning in favour of returning to Pendragon, not least because the memory of the betrayal of the Order of the Black Knights meant that he was not, at least not personally, going to take up the mantle of Zero again. At least, not yet.

Throughout his journey, Lelouch had made sure that the three traveling companions were never separated. Suzaku believed that it was fear; that Lelouch didn't want to lose any more people that were close to him. In actual fact, Lelouch had decided to kill two birds with one stone. Before becoming loyal to him, Suzaku and the Lancelot were a thorn in his side. If his friend was to join the military of his own accord, that was on his own head, but he would have to be loyal to Lelouch and Lelouch alone. His other reasons were slightly more… personal. Suzaku had had a harsh life, and Lelouch firmly believed that he had earned a normal school life. Besides, Nunnally would need a brother figure once Lelouch returned to Pendragon and who better than Suzaku?

Their arrival in Tokyo had been a hectic one. They had immediately sought refuge with the Ashfords, before sending a message to his sister Cornelia to let her know that they were alive. Unsurprisingly, she had dropped everything and rushed to the newly formed Area 11, to find her stony eyed brother waiting for her, a petulant denial ready for her requests for his return to Britannia immediately. He had asked to spend a few months as a normal citizen in Area 11 and all but demanded that his sister stay in the country indefinitely. Without the emperor's interference in such a trivial matter, the final ruling was left to Cornelia, who quickly agreed to his terms, on the condition that he would stay with Euphemia and the li Britannia family upon his return to Pendragon, and that Nunnally would keep her true identity a secret during her education.

Nunnally was shocked to find that her brother would be leaving her. Only the reassuring promises of constant visits, droves of presents and the comfort of staying with Suzaku, managed to soothe her. Lelouch kept reassuring himself that he was trying to protect her, but he had come to terms with the truth; that he was being selfish. He remembered vividly the look of disgust on his little sister's face when she was informed of the atrocities he had committed as Zero. He couldn't bear to see that face on her again, so he distanced himself from her, literally. He didn't want to be anywhere near her while he was _scheming_. It would only hurt her.

The rest of his time in Tokyo was spent working diligently with the Ashfords. They had already began work on their next generation Knightmare Frame, the Juno, which they claimed would outstrip the new Glasgows by leaps and bounds. He was mildly impressed by the design; it didn't have the agility of a Gloucester, or the strength of a Sutherland, but its core gave it a slightly longer operating period than either of the future military models, and the new design for the land-spinners meant that it would be much more versatile over difficult terrain. The governors of the newly built Ashford Academy initially put up a fuss over the inclusion of an Eleven at what was promised to be an establishment for the Britannian elite. However, they were quickly placated when they were informed that his inclusion meant a hefty donation would be given to the school. Anonymously, of course. Lelouch didn't want to be seen favouring anyone.

Outside of his business arrangements, Lelouch found himself with little to do. C.C. had quickly made herself noticed again, as she continued to haunt the abode of the vi Britannia siblings. She found herself both happy and frustrated in equal measures. Frustrated due to the continuing pizza 'drought,' but happy because of the sense of peace that she had found; no impending war, no threat, no stress. Just her and her… what was he? It would be wrong to say that they were lovers once again. Due to unforeseen circumstances, he was a child again, and they were both very unwilling to explore that territory at the moment. It was probably best to describe him as an 'important person' to her; she trusted him with her name, he trusted her with his soul. They were accomplices, and they always would be. They had almost relaxed into a quasi-normal routine, the only problem being keeping him away from the other inhabitants of the house. Fortunately, the situation with Nunnally had worked itself out quite well, and Lelouch had resigned himself to entrusting his sister to the tender devices of Sayoko (whose services were quickly acquisitioned from Milly), Suzaku and the she-devil in the making, Millicent Ashford.

* * *

Lelouch returned to Pendragon in mid-December of 2012, less than a week after his twelfth birthday had been celebrated with typical royal extravagance and exuberance. He received a multitude of useless, childish gifts that he had quickly and secretly palmed off to his sister. The only gift that he had held onto was a simple invitation to play chess at the Imperial Palace. As his brother had only recently taken up the office of Prime Minister, he was inundated with work, meaning that time for a chess match would be hard to find. Lelouch relished the thought of pitting his wits against his brother, the only opponent that he had never defeated, his greatest foe; Schneizel.

He had spent the better part of two years in Japan, securing the protection and loyalty of his most intimate companions. Apparently the old saying was true; absence does make the heart grow fonder, for Euphie refused to let Lelouch out of her sight for the first month, even resorting to sleeping beside him in his new room in the li Britannia villa. Said problem had been very aggravating to a certain witch, who was threatening to take it upon herself to 'straighten that brat out.' Other than running around trying to stop his accomplice from murdering his sister, Lelouch was forced to attend party after party after party. He understood the necessity of gaining the support of the nobles, but he was well aware that his future policies would ostracise him from many of the people whose support he was trying to gain.

Time after time he was stuffed into a slim black tuxedo, to be ushered off to some charitable function held by a wealthy noble with a guilty conscience and more money than sense. That's not to say that he hadn't found some use for the social gatherings; at one such event, hosted by the Colchester Institute, he had met a rather annoying man in his twenties, Lloyd Asplund. It had taken little coercion to get the scientist to agree to work as the Britannian liaison to the secret research and development department of the Ashford Foundation. The offer of patronage from one of the princes of the empire was more than enough to get him to agree to his deal. Publicly, Lelouch had organised the creation of a scholarship that offered the best and brightest of Britannia, and the Areas, a chance to join a research team into new Knightmare Frames for the military. Reuben Ashford had secured a majority stake in a small defence corporation, using Lelouch's money of course. The company, under the sponsorship of the eleventh prince, had won a five-year contract with the Britannian military, for the design and production of new KMF's. Naturally, some level of their time and resources would be spent on designing 'toys' for Lelouch, without his siblings finding anything untoward in his dealings.

The year had passed quickly after that. Lelouch had begged Cornelia to teach him how to properly use a KMF. He had had some practice as a pilot in the Ganymede during his stay in Tokyo, and before he came to the past he was a more than competent pilot, however, he found that his muscle memory wasn't quite the same as it was in the past; he just hadn't built the reflexes that he had acquired before his death, meaning that he was essentially starting his training from scratch. His sister had promised to tutor him personally in the basics of KMF operations, on the condition that he spent more time with her and Nunnally, as a family. His dealings with Cornelia went little further than tit-for-tat; if he wanted something from her, he had to be willing to offer something in return. That didn't mean that he didn't care for his sisters greatly, he loved them dearly, all the more for realising that Cornelia had put her military career on hold for his sake. That, however, did not stop him from disappearing from their sight at every opportunity. On some occasions, Lelouch had managed to get halfway to Tokyo before his absence was noticed and his elder sister started barking orders for her commanders to go and fetch him. It wasn't his fault; he missed Nunnally.

On the occasions that he managed to escape capture, he spent time with her and her new friends; the recently established junior school council; Shirley, Rivalz, Milly, Suzaku and Nina. He found it disconcerting to spend time with people who he knew so well, but didn't know him at all. Surprisingly, he fit right in with his old friends, once again in the role of Lelouch Lamperouge, protective older brother of the blind and adorable Nunnally Lamperouge. With them, for some reason, he was destined never to be the Britannian prince, instead doomed to hide as a Lamperouge forevermore. As much fun as he had on his trips, they would never last for longer than a few days before either Cornelia or Clovis would get fed up, and come to fetch him themselves.

Clovis' presence had been a surprise. Apparently, without the loss of the vi Britannia siblings, he had had no reason to become the governor of Area 11, and instead spent his time painting and partying, enjoying the finer points of life that were part of the privilege of being royalty. Vain and useless though his elder half-brother could be, he was exceptionally talented as a manipulator of propaganda. Behind his pompous bluster and his false charm, Clovis was as devious as Schneizel. He may not have had the intelligence, or the power to use it, but he could be a powerful ally, if he was applied in the correct circumstances. As long as the third prince was kept well bereft of a position of power, he would be content, and a very useful tool in Lelouch's arsenal. To that end, Lelouch regularly met with his brother, to pose for a painting or watch some inane play that had caught his brother's fancy. By the end of their third meeting, Lelouch was almost sure that his brother would never join him of his own accord. Quickly and discretely, he had used his Geass on his brother at the beginning of their next meeting. It had been a simple command, whispered in a sibilant hiss, rather than in his glorious, commanding shout, _"Follow me."_ With that, his alliance was complete, and two years had passed since his return to Pendragon.

* * *

Upon his fourteenth birthday, Lelouch was summoned before his brother, Schneizel. Schneizel had kept close tabs on his younger brother after he had heard that he had literally begged Cornelia to be instructed in the art of the Knightmare Frame. He had not taken Lelouch for one to follow the path of the soldier; rather he had quite hoped that he may one day have made Lelouch his Foreign Secretary, second in command of his world empire. Instead of encouraging Lelouch's rise in politics, the natural course of action would be to have him supplant Cornelia in the military, for she was far too stubborn to truly oppose the emperor, while Lelouch… well, he had seen the hatred for the emperor in Lelouch's eyes far too many times. With this in mind, he had secured a place for Lelouch at the Imperial Military Academy Sandhurst, the premier officer training centre in Britannia, situated on Britannia's east coast. If Lelouch wanted to, he could graduate from the academy in two years, and be in command of a regiment in North Africa or South East Asia, where the fight to expand the empire was fiercest.

Considering how Lelouch's plans were forming, it was unsurprising that he accepted the offer in a heartbeat. And so, Lelouch found himself bundled off to the military academy, mere days after his birthday celebrations, a rather lacklustre and half-hearted affair, staying in the cadet barracks at Sandhurst. He was the first one there, arriving the night before the course was set to begin. His quarters were unimpressive; far smaller and more Spartan than he was used to. Still, he wasn't one to complain. As Sandhurst was an officer specific training establishment, the cadets were not required to stay together in dorms; instead they were assigned small rooms that they would share with another cadet. The academy was geared towards the production of the gentleman-officer, an ideal that had only survived in the Britannian military. In Britannia, the officers were the elite; chivalrous, sophisticated and ruthless when necessary, the perfect officer was the perfect noble as well. Lelouch was the archetypal officer, as he was intelligent and ruthless to his enemies, but also warm and generous to his allies. Of course, hardly any of the officers produced by the Britannian system matched the ideal that they were trying to fit. Most saw only the need to further themselves, in pursuit of greater influence and power. Lelouch was fortunate, in that respect, as he was the easiest route to wealth and power in the academy; he would be sought after and wooed at every opportunity, making this a breeding ground for potentially influential and powerful allies.

It was no surprise that C.C. had decided to come with him. The fact that it was impossible, or that she would get caught never even crossed her mind. He had just sighed and bent to her will. He found himself doing that far too often these days, but then again, if she could evade Cornelia's sharp watch for almost two years, then she could evade a few spoiled cadets for two more. As the school was almost exclusively for the children of well to do nobles, there was a rather limited invasion of privacy, with the stress instead being placed upon leadership skills and intelligence, rather than obedience and physical fitness, which were still important, but did not hold the same priority here as it did in other military schools.

This, quite conveniently, brought Lelouch back to the present, cutting his reminiscence short, as the green haired witch behind him tightened her firm grip on him, as if sensing his disquiet. He lay his head back down on the pillow, as C.C. snuggled closer into him, but he couldn't find any peace. His mind was whirring; he had noticed something, subconsciously of course, something important enough to rouse him from his sleep with a violent nightmare and prevent him from getting his well-deserved rest.

_'It couldn't possibly be anything important.' _He decided finally. _'It's my first night.'_

His eyes slowly began to close, as he relaxed and sleep threatened to engulf him once more. His now-bleary vision was drawn across the room, coming to rest on the rich oak door that marked the entrance to his room, with his name and his room-mates name inscribed on thin lacquer panels.

He closed his eyes, burrowing his head in the cushy softness that was his pillow, letting out a soft sigh of contentment, before his eyes flashed open, his pupils focusing the door with a panicked stare.

The panel read:

_Lelouch vi Britannia & Gino Weinberg._

Gino Weinberg?

_'Ah.' Lelouch thought bleakly. 'Shit.'_

* * *

(AN) To explain, if I wasn't clear; the code C.C. has that gives her immortality, that she wants Lelouch to take and kill her was in a transition state between the two of them when he is killed, releasing the sizeable amount of energy that it stored and catapulting the two linked individuals back in time, in the process returning the immortal code to C.C.

This is my first story, so any constructive criticism would be helpful. That said, I'm only 17, so for me to write more, my delicate ego needs to be built up rather than be crushed, so please don't be too honest. Read, Review and Favourite if you can, it definitely helps with my motivation.

Thanks,

Penhaligon


	3. Perseverance

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Code Geass. Sandhurst is a real place, but I don't own that either.

* * *

_The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst is the most prestigious officer training facility in the Britannian Empire, where the elite of the Britannian nobility are trained to take on the responsibilities of commanding soldiers. The commission course for junior army officers runs for two years, taking the place of a typical school environment. Training at Sandhurst covers military, practical and academic subjects and while it is mentally and physically demanding, there is plenty of time left for recreational activities. The recently established KMF program is internationally renowned for its diligent training and KMF handling experiences. Sandhurst truly is a wonderful place to send bright young nobles who aspire towards a career in the military._

_RMA Sandhurst promotional leaflet-2016 edition_

* * *

The crack of gunfire sounded all around, as a lone Glasgow crouched as best it could, behind the crumbling remains of a hollowed-out building. A hail of bullets pinned the pilot down, forcing him lower behind his barriers, as his enemy began to move round, slowly, in an attempt to surround him.

"This is K-1, in position. Requesting backup; five hostile Knightmares have me pinned down."

A sharp voice answered over the crackle of the radio, in a clipped voice, "Request denied. Push forward, K-1. Attack plan Delta."

The pilot cursed under his breath, before acknowledging his orders. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an enemy Sutherland emerge from the rubble on his right flank. He cursed again, before quickly firing a grenade over the wall in the direction of where the other enemies had stationed themselves. With the enemy cover disrupted, he hurled himself at the Sutherland, dropping his grenade launcher, and drawing his standard issue KMF knife in one smooth motion. His enemy levelled a shotgun at him, but he was there in a flash, knife raised to prevent the barrel from pointing at him. He rammed the shoulder of the heavier Glasgow into the Sutherland's torso, before quickly dropping his enemy with a strike across his chest. He moved round his downed enemy, picking up the fallen warriors gun as he moved, running as smoothly as he could through the debris. His landspinners would be useless now, with so much rubbish in his path. He had disabled them, in favour of the human running style that the KMF's could imitate. It was far, far slower, but in a battle like this, it proved to be incredibly useful.

A flash of light drew him to a stop, as he flung himself behind cover, moments before the snipers shot hit. His enemy was well placed, hidden in one of the lower floors of a building that was still intact. He got up quickly, running from cover to cover, evading the sporadic bursts of fire that erupted from his target. When he was close enough to the building, he fired his stolen shotgun at the building, spraying bullets blindly at his enemy. With this distraction, he fired both of his slash harkens at the floor that the sniper was one. With a savage grin, he ripped the floor from beneath his enemy's feet, viciously gutting the building from the inside. He waited patiently as his still-operating enemy emerged from the rubble, swaying blindly, with his head caved in, and his vision systems shot. He quickly put the enemy pilot out of his misery with a burst of gunfire.

He groaned as he checked the magazine of his stolen gun; he was pretty much out. After that, he would have to rely on his knife to do the dirty work for him. He usually made sure that his ammunition stocks were well supplied, but for this particular mission, his commanding officer had decided that the main ranks would require the ammo more, and had not-so-gently requisitioned them from him. He didn't care much, though; his knife was enough to deal with these useless pilots.

He swung around, searching for the other Knightmares that had held him up for so long. A flash of colour, in the distance drew his attention. He watched as four enemy Knightmares barrelled through their defences; heading towards the command module at the back of the battlefield where his commanding officer surveyed the battle. If he was lost, they were as good as dead. From his position on the outermost edge of the left flank, the pilot could see his comrades on the other side of the battle, a team of two Glasgow's and a Sutherland, fall back from their position to deal with the new threat. He knew that they wouldn't be able to stop the enemy, that they were just buying time until he could return and change the tide of the battle in their favour once more. He shot off, as fast as he could, weaving expertly through the wreckage of the buildings that tried to impeded his path.

He arrived at the scene just in time to see one of the enemy break through their formation and fall upon the command unit. The Glasgow sprang into action, quickly knifing one of his enemies from behind, while their attention was still fixed on their previous challenger. He whirled round, throwing his knife at one of the other Knightmares before rushing towards the command module. He didn't even check to see if he had hit, he didn't need to.

The single remaining hostile Knightmare dropped his gun and drew his knife, as the three KMF's descended upon him. There would be no mercy today.

* * *

The final enemy, a Sutherland, levelled a gun at the cockpit of the command module. The pilot grinned maniacally in his machine, his fingers trembling with excitement as he handled the controls with a practiced air.

_'Finally! After all those crushing defeats! You lose, Lelouch. As you are so fond of saying; checkmate.'_

"Come out, _your highness_! Face your vanquisher like a man!" The pilot's voice boomed out through the tannoy system of his machine.

For one still, heavy moment, his request hung tersely in the air, before he heard the tell-tale hiss that denoted the ejection of the hatch. The mad grin fell from his face, and his fingers began to tremble for a very different reason, as he looked at the man standing before him; a cocksure smirk plastered on his face, his hands raised in a mocking gesture of surrender, his shocking blonde hair waving slightly in the wind.

_'Weinberg? But that means-'_

He choked on his gasp, as he heard the click of a shotgun, behind him.

Inside the Glasgow, Lelouch's smirk widened.

The pilot stilled his nerves as he dropped the weapon he had clasped tightly in his right hand. When he spoke, his voice was soft and calm, with a tangible sense of exasperation, well bereft of the madness it previously held.

"I think the phrase rhymes with 'clucking bell'."

* * *

"Major, I really must protest. This is highly irregular."

"Hmmm?" The commanding officer opened one eye lazily, fixing the elderly noble, who had disturbed him, with a tired glare. "What of it? I think that it was an excellent performance by Cadet Weinberg and his group; he showed real initiative in the field."

"Major, with all due respect, you know as well as I, that that wasn't Weinberg. How can you hope to teach these cadets leadership if that one boy always remains in charge?"

The major sighed. The old bastard wasn't willing to give up quickly.

"We mix up the teams for every competition; he is not always in charge."

"Who are you trying to kid, Major. From what I've heard, he is the only person who could pull off a plan like this."

By this point, the Major was getting desperate. Having someone like this old bastard hounding him wasn't fun in any way. He tried a different approach; common sense.

"Were you not listening to the radio communications between Weinberg and the prince?"

"Well… yes, but-"

"Then you understand that the prince was not giving the orders, he was merely following them. Brilliant though he may be, there is no possible way that Cadet vi Britannia could predict his enemy's moves completely, and plan accordingly."

_'You owe me, Lelouch.' _He grumbled silently.

"I suppose so." He ground out grudgingly, not wanting to be proved wrong. He moved to leave the room, before stopping and turning on his heel sharply, to look at the major, who was twiddling his thumbs in a forced attempt to be nonchalant. "To return to the original reason why I came up here…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The major said far too quickly, one yellow eye twitching madly, as he attempted to blow the wisps of blue hair out of his face.

"I think you do." The old man could smell blood. He stalked towards the major, who blanched white. The major may be the chief instructor of this school, but _he_ was the Junior Under-Secretary for Defence; anything that happened at this academy fell under his jurisdiction. He drew himself up to his full height, glaring at the young major, who immediately tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Major, did you receive authorisation to use a 'paintball' game to test your cadets? In Knightmares, no less!"

"Err… well. You see…" He trailed off.

In that moment, the Chief Instructor of the academy, Major Jeremiah Gottwald, idly wondered how an old politician could look so much like a grinning shark.

* * *

"Luuuluuu!"

Lelouch vi Britannia growled under his breath, his right eyebrow twitching fiercely. He really wasn't in the mood; he had just gotten an earful from Jeremiah about being more careful with his 'games'. Apparently, he had been over-exuberant in his victory and had damaged some of the other teams' KMF's and that warranted a dressing down. It was all done in private, of course, and had consisted more of Jeremiah begging Lelouch not to upset any more politicians, rather than berating him on the cost of the damage he had caused. He had complained that his job may be on the line, to which Lelouch had replied, rather tersely, that the only reason he was here was to remain useful to his prince. After all, what could be more useful than having your examiner on your side?

In any case, his placement as examiner was almost pointless by this point. The tests that they had administered had posed little problem for Lelouch. The results of his practical tests were never in any doubt, the hardest part of this particular one being the need for his comrades to parrot orders to him at the correct times; orders that he himself had previously given.

He heard a set of rapid footsteps approach him from behind. He feigned ignorance, choosing instead to continue with his task; penning a letter to Nunnally. Even though he hadn't been able to visit her very often, he still sent letters to her at least twice per week. He knew that she didn't like the separation much, but had more-or-less come to terms with it. In his letters to his newly re-acquainted friends, they had told him that she had gotten involved heavily with the Student Council.

"Oi, Lulu! Don't ignore me!"

Lelouch promptly ignored him, instead trying to keep his hand flowing steadily over the page. His vision of the page was promptly blotted out, as an obnoxious blonde head loomed over to read his writing.

"Who are you writing to?" A lecherous grin spread across his face. "Is it Milly?"

Lelouch shuddered. Gino and Milly… together? He didn't dare think about it. He really should have tried harder to keep them apart when his sister and his friends visited him for his sixteenth birthday. Gino and Milly had gotten along quite well, to Rivalz' eternal displeasure, but they hadn't bothered to keep in contact for very long afterwards.

He still wasn't quite sure what to think of Gino, even after spending nearly two years together. He hated to admit it, but he quite enjoyed the blonde's company, when he wasn't being an insufferable arse. He could tell that the teen had more to him, beneath the surface. The blonde had experienced pain in his life, pain that only a few people could understand, pain that he had hidden from the world around him. Lelouch hadn't thought it appropriate to question him, but if necessary, it could be used to tie his allegiance to Lelouch, without the use of his Geass to force him to do something against his will. Whatever it was, it was a weak point for Gino, something that could be subtly manipulated, worked and played at, to mould the blonde into something… more.

Gino whipped the letter away from Lelouch, startling the young prince out of his musings. He danced fluidly away from Lelouch's futile attempts to get the letter back. Despite the significant improvements in Lelouch's physical capabilities, he still fell noticeably short of being able to outrun or outfight people like Gino, or Suzaku, for that matter.

"Dear Nunnally," Gino read in a singsong voice, "I'm afraid I can't take it anymore. I've fallen in love with my fetching roommate. He's smart, funny and devilishly handsome… erk."

C.C. had gotten tired of all the noise in the room, and had proceeded to smack Gino in the head, as he danced past. She huffed irritably, glowering at the blonde, before burying herself back under the covers of Lelouch's bed. It was far too early in the afternoon for this. She should be in bed at this hour, it was only noon!

"Sorry C.C. Sorry Lulu." He grovelled. There was something about Lelouch's mistress that scared the ever loving shit out of Gino. She was generally a very slothful person; lazing in bed for most of the day, getting up only to eat plates of pizza that she had managed to commandeer from the mess hall. How she did it, he had no idea, as it served to add to the mystique that surrounded her. He didn't mind having her share their room; it was not unheard of for a noble to keep a mistress around, and as Lelouch was a member of the royal family, he understood why few people could know of C.C.'s existence.

Still, there were things that didn't quite add up about her. Though she claimed to be Lelouch's mistress, he had never heard them … how to put it delicately… 'get it on.' Also, she hardly ever left the room. It was as if she didn't have any family or friends or any duties away from Lelouch. He had doubts about who she was, but if Lelouch trusted her, he didn't have any reason not to. He didn't know why, but he trusted Lelouch. He was always willing to follow his prince in any plan that he had come up with, no matter how hare-brained it sounded like to him.

"Did you want something?"

Lelouch's voice startled Gino. "I'm sorry, what?"

By this point, Lelouch looked absolutely exasperated, "What do you want? I thought you would be helping the others to get the KMF's clean of paint."

"Nah, the other team lost, so they have to clean up." He paused to gather his thoughts, "Why did you want to be in the Glasgow? The plan would have worked even if we hadn't switched places, so why bother?"

Lelouch set his pen down, before a small smile formed on his face. "I did it to prove a point."

"Huh?" Gino questioned with his typical eloquence.

"I proved today, that you were more than just a KMF ace, that you could think on your own, that you could lead anyone into battle."

"Lelouch," He sighed, pressing on, even over the soft snores that were wafting from one of the beds, "Everyone knows that it wasn't my plan. Everyone knows that it was you, that its always you."

Lelouch's smile broadened ever so slightly, and Gino caught a little twinkle in his eye. "Who cares? It will go down on paper as a crushing victory for you, a shining example of the excellence that is your leadership. Combine that with your operating scores on the Knightmares, and they'll have to pass you with distinction. In fact, you'll be so highly recommended, that they won't palm you off to any old unit, you will have to take the most prestigious job of all; guarding your prince."

Gino looked shocked, a little bit frightened even. He choked, stuttering out the only question that he could think of. "But why?"

Lelouch stared directly into his eyes with his purple orbs. Those regal, haunting eyes that stared straight into his soul, that simply screamed at him to trust his prince.

"Because I believe that you and I can change the world. I believe that Britannia is a diseased, corrupted, blight on our world. I believe that it needs to be changed and that the people who have the power have to help the people that have nothing. I'm asking you, not as your friend, but as Lelouch vi Britannia, the eleventh prince of the empire; will you help me bring about a new world, a fair world?"

Lelouch recognised that he was taking a risk in trying to recruit Gino to fight against the emperor, but he knew that he could always Geass him into submission, despite the fact that he was loath to do so. "The emperor…" He started, unconvincingly.

"… is a fool, Gino. He's more concerned with chasing fantasies rather than taking care of the people he is responsible for."

Gino wanted to trust him, he really did, but Lelouch was asking a lot. He was asking him to betray his family, his friends and his country; to put everything on the line to chase some idealistic vision.

"I…I need some time to think."

He could see the turmoil in Gino's eyes, he could read it in his face; he was fighting an internal battle. Gino didn't leave the room; this was a very private matter which he didn't want to get out, but he lay on his bed, eyes wide open, just staring up at the ceiling.

Lelouch groaned inwardly, before deciding to let the blonde resolve his own issues at his leisure. He really didn't want to Geass his friend. There was no point in rushing the boy. Instead, with an iron will he stopped himself from using his power on the blonde, turning back to his letter. It was finished, but it didn't quite feel complete. Below his scrawling signature, he wrote a post-script;

_Since my second year's coming to an end, I thought that I should visit my favourite sister, after the graduation ceremony. It's been so long since we've all been together, that I thought that I'd drag Nelly and Euphie with me for the visit. A long one. We might even be able to get Clovis to come as well, you know how he dotes on you._

_ I love you, dearest sister, and I'll see you again, very soon. _

* * *

_Separate _

_ Verb: Cause to move or be apart_

_E.g. "They were separated by war."_

Nunnally tapped her finger slowly on the indented writing; it was her braille copy of the Oxford English Dictionary. It was such a lonely word, she mused, her lips silently tracing the sound of the syllables. Not just the meaning; the word itself was so… sad. Each little 'e' was trying to find happiness, trying so very hard to be together with its counterpart, but was being kept apart by so much, not being allowed to be together because of the other letters that stood between them.

Nunnally knew what it meant to be that little 'e'. Kept apart from her brother; separated because of the machinations of others, because of who they were. She sighed. She wasn't completely alone; she had Sayoko and Suzaku and the rest of the student council with her, but it wasn't the same. It would never be the same without Lelouch. Everyone had tried their best to keep her spirits up, but every now and then, when she had time to think alone, she felt depressed. Suzaku had been a great relief; he had played with her when everyone else had gone home, he had held her when she felt sad, laughed with her when she felt happy. He was her best friend, her brother in all but blood.

As her mind wandered, her hands kept busy, constantly moving her hands in the same practiced motions. Dozens of paper cranes littered the floor around her wheelchair, standing testament to her dedication to her work. She wasn't sure what she was wishing for, anymore; was it for the return of her mother, or for the return of her brother to her? She never wished for the return of her sight, or her ability to walk. She had come to terms with her injuries. They were part of who she was now; she hardly considered them disabilities, and in any case, she wasn't willing to waste a special wish on herself.

She moved herself through the heavily ornate rooms of the Student Council building, towards the function room, where the other members of her self-proclaimed 'adopted family' had camped out. A slim pair of arms wrapped themselves around her neck gently, as soon as she entered the room.

"Guess who." A feminine voice, purred in her ear.

"Ah, Milly-san. Please let go." She sounded exasperated, but inside, she was glowing. Milly's… unique attitude and humour, never failed to brighten her day.

"Awww, you're no fun anymore, Nunna-chan! You don't blush like you used to." The arms withdrew from round her, but one hand remained on her shoulder. "Lulu sent another letter. We were waiting for you to open it."

Nunnally smiled brightly. She loved to hear about what he was doing. He always sounded so busy to her, with some test or another always going on at his academy. Her smile refused to dim in the slightest, as Milly read his letter, attempting to mimic Lelouch's voice. Nunnally was overjoyed when she heard that he was coming for a visit, with her two favourite half-sisters. She could tell that the entire council was buzzing with the news of the impending visit of their favourite prince. They had all become quite close to him during his periodical visits, quickly slipping into easy roles as his friends, as if it came naturally to them.

Milly handed her the letter. She let her fingers trace the slight indents caused by the pen on the paper. She giggled as she felt the blobs of ink that had fallen on the paper, marring his otherwise perfect handwriting. She could imagine Gino-kun bothering him as he wrote. They had seemed like they got along quite well, when she had seen them on his birthday.

She clutched the letter to her chest tightly. She was surprised how quickly her brother could turn her mood round, even from the other side of the world.

_'I'll see you soon, big brother.'_

* * *

As the sun began to set over Area 11, thousands of miles away, the sun was rising over the east coast of Britannia. At Sandhurst military academy, the day had not yet begun; as the school year was drawing to a close, the more arduous of duties were renounced, allowing the cadets a few more hours of much needed rest.

Well, for most of them, that is.

In one small room in the corner of the senior cadet barracks, a lone blonde figure stared unseeingly up at the ceiling.

"Lelouch." He called softly, not willing to wake the sleeping dragon that was the pizza girl, "Are you awake."

The prince woke quickly, sharply. He wasn't a heavy sleeper. His … situation dictated that he was always alert, even while resting. His two years of training didn't really help him on that front either; he found that he was always on his guard, in some form or another. He rolled over in his bed, careful not to startle the witch beside him, turning to look at his roommate.

"What's your answer?"

Lelouch spoke without anxiety or anger in his voice. He was calm, like he always was, despite the overwhelming seriousness of the encounter. He didn't whisper, like Gino had. His voice was rich and smooth; a regal baritone with the characteristic feel of dark chocolate to it. Charismatic and warm, it reassured Gino that he was doing the right thing. As long as he followed his prince, he would be doing the right thing.

"I pledge my faithfulness, to Lelouch vi Britannia, as my saviour and my sovereign. I give my allegiance, and my word that death shall not stray me from my path, nor glory tempt me from my duty."

It was a bastardised version of an old Britannian oath of honour that became obsolete as the nobility expanded, but the intent had always remained the same. Lelouch knew that Gino would be loyal to him, the way only C.C. was, and Jeremiah was in the future.

He closed his eyes, mild relief washing over him. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to; Gino's words had taken the tension out of the room. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see that Gino had gotten out of his bed and knelt quietly on the floor, one hand clasped tightly to his chest, just above his heart.

Lelouch chuckled darkly.

"Arise, my knight."

* * *

AN): This is the beginning of the actual story, it picks up from here quite quickly. I have planned out the next chapter, but I may not be able to post it for a while, maybe not for a fortnight, but I'll try.

Also, can you tell me what you thought of the fight scene at the beginning of the chapter? Battles will be almost regular occurrences, so any problems with style should be ironed out now.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lelouch has gotten the loyalty of one of his knights, essentially finished his training and is prepped for a visit to his favourite sister. I tried to put a little bit of something in it for everyone; some action, some light hearted stuff etc…

Next chapter has: a trip to japan, the introduction of Kallen, some pseudo-major political upheavals and the beginning of Lulu's military career, so keep reading.

As always, R&R.

Thanks,

Penhaligon


	4. Dominion

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Code Geass.

* * *

_ELEVENTH PRINCE GEARS UP FOR WAR!_

_The Eleventh Prince, Lelouch vi Britannia, son of the illustrious Knightmare Pilot Marianne 'The Flash', has been commissioned as an officer in the Britannian military, after graduating from RMA Sandhurst. Second Prince Schneizel, and Princesses Cornelia and Euphemia, as well as other members of the royal family were among the many who attended the graduation ceremony. During his speech, the Chief Instructor of the Academy, Lord Jeremiah Gottwald, said that the new graduates had to be 'the best of Britannia' and 'represent the chivalrous ideas of our great nation.' Lord Gottwald closed his speech by announcing that he would leave the academy, in order to return to active-duty as a KMF pilot._

_Since his return from Area 11, the young Prince Lelouch has kept mainly out of the public eye, instead working heavily to organise charities and foundations with his elder brother, Prince Clovis. While Prince Lelouch may not be the first royal to join the military, he is the first since his elder sister Cornelia to receive formal military training. As many of you may know, the royalty have the right to ignore the arduous officer training, in order to be sent out to fight at the earliest possible moment. _

_As threats of war, between Britannia and the EU, are being issued by each country, we can only hope that the young prince will be up to the challenge of protecting the homeland and our interests worldwide…._

_[Continued on page 9]_

Lelouch smiled as he read the newspaper that had been unceremoniously dropped in front of him by his elder sister. It was a crude piece of propaganda from Clovis; playing on his pseudo-common ancestry and his supposed achievements, in order to sway the opinion of the commoners. Clovis was the one responsible for all of 'Lelouch's' charitable deeds, while the officer training had hardly been as tough as it was reported. He tried not to let his grin widen as he listened to the angry squeals of cutlery on fine china, and the irate huffs that Cornelia let out periodically, as she bisected a helpless serving of roast lamb.

She was in a foul mood.

_'Maybe it's the food?'_ He mused idly, _'or the air? With Cornelia, it could be anything.'_

More likely, it was the fact that her holiday in Area 11 would be cut short by the outbreak of war on the Eastern edge of the partially-formed Area 18, formerly known as Egypt. The Arab League were hardy fighters, well accustomed to fighting in biting desert winds and at temperatures that would make Britannians melt in their skins. The Viceroy of the Area, a certain lazy First Princess of Britannia, had requested reinforcements from her younger sister at the earliest possible convenience. It didn't matter that there were units stationed close by that were intended for that purpose. She was miserable, so she wanted her sister to be miserable as well.

Lelouch heard the braying sound of his blonde knight's laugh, far off inside the house, followed quickly by a menacing growl from the much-closer Cornelia.

_'So that's why she's in a bad mood.'_

"I don't know why you brought him; he's such a pest!"

Lelouch raised an eyebrow carefully at his sisters annoyed question.

"He's my knight." He said simply.

She bristled as his flippant answer, but nevertheless, she turned back to focus on the rapidly cooling food on her plate. He understood that she was pissed; she had been inundated with requests for meetings since the moment that she had landed. She had wanted to spend some quality time with Lelouch and Nunnally, but she had been unable to do so. She had taken her role as elder sister to heart after their mother 'died', becoming a surrogate mother figure to her younger siblings. She had been the one to teach Lelouch how to pilot a KMF properly. She had been there for Nunnally, as much as she could, despite the fact that she was thousands of miles away. Her actions had really touched Lelouch, who knew all too well what it was like to be abandoned by family.

She would never admit it, but she had a soft spot for her two half-siblings…

His musings were interrupted by the sounds of a tinkling crash outside the door to the dining room, followed quickly by heated voices and the fading sound of a light and airy laugh.

"THAT'S IT!" Cornelia screamed, throwing her hands into the air, before marching to the door, and wrenching it open. She was greeted by the sight of a sheepish looking blonde and a bluenette on their knees, a broken vase between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she had seen a flash of green hair, but she ignored it, thinking it was her imagination.

She turned back to look at the two kneeling figures, before grabbing each by the corner of their ears and physically dragging them into the dining room. Lelouch sighed as he watched his sister berate his two subordinates. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

It had taken most of the afternoon for Cornelia to calm down enough to be able to talk to anyone. By that time, the opulent quarters of the Viceroy's Palace had started to fill with guests; all important members of nobility that had managed to wheedle an invitation to the lavish welcoming party for the visiting royals. The guest list was large, boasting the names of more than just nobility, who attended in the vain hope of garnering the attention and affection of the young royals.

Inside the palace, Lelouch regarded his visage in the mirror. It was slightly more formal than he was used to, but no less dashing than his former Zero costume. He wore the blood-red coat of a Britannian officer, decorated lightly with gold embroidery, with a crisp white shirt lying unseen, beneath it. Today he would have to play the part of the Britannian prince. His actions alone could win the hearts of the Numbers, but he would have to appeal to the pockets of the nobles. They had the ability to ruin his visions, if they so pleased. He had to make sure that they would keep cheering his name, even as he stripped them of every penny.

His plan was simple;

Give freedom to the oppressed. Give victory to the weak. Give money to the greedy.

If he gave the Numbers a taste of freedom, they would rally behind him; the prince that saved them from oppression. If he gave the ordinary Britannians tales of victory, of hard-fought battles where their prince fought shoulder to shoulder with ordinary soldiers, they would stand fast behind him, cheering him on even as he overturned the social order. If he gave the nobility promises of untold riches, they would turn a blind eye to his dealings, and give him free reign to shape the world as he saw fit. Today, he planned on completing two of his three objectives.

"Lelouch," a voice said softly from behind him, "How does this look?"

He turned to look at C.C., before turning away swiftly, viciously fighting a blush.

"Shouldn't you put some clothes on first, witch?" He was surprised that his voice came out steady.

She grinned. "Can I not just go like this?"

He sighed.

"Maybe next time."

* * *

"… And this is Baroness Warsi and her husband, Michael, a commoner. Major scandal when they got married, about twenty years ago, but it blew over very quickly. They run a major conglomerate in Area 13; they flew in especially for this occasion. They're looking for logging rights in Vietnam. Decent people, down-to-earth, two children, no strong affinity or dislike of any group of people."

Lelouch waved away the frantic buzz in his ear that was Gino. It was Lelouch's duty to court the nobles, which made it Gino's duty to learn everything about everyone. Luckily for the both of them, he was well-accustomed to it, coming from the influential Weinberg family. Lelouch focused his attention on what he had been told as the pair approached him.

"Your highness-"She began.

"My Lady, I am truly honoured that you took the time to come here. I understand that you flew in especially for our humble little party."

The woman looked absolutely delighted at the attention that she was receiving. "It is an honour, your highness, just to be in your presence."

"Please, call me Lelouch. I don't think formalities are necessary here." He turned to her husband, "I understand that you have two children. How have they taken to living in Area 13?"

The man looked taken aback at being addressed so casually by someone of Lelouch's status. Lelouch guessed that he was well used to being largely ignored at these functions in favour of his more influential wife. "They are thriving, your highness. My youngest has heard of your exploits in Area 11. She keeps saying that she wants to join the army when she grows up, like you."

Outwardly, Lelouch laughed, but inside he was seething. Even though he was under Geass, Clovis still retained his own will for the majority of things, instead acting like the Geass he had once put on Suzaku, so many years ago, and surfacing only when it came to supporting Lelouch. Soon after his return from Area 11 as a child, the third prince had deemed it necessary to release a series of pamphlets and short articles telling the embellished tale of Lelouch's heroic journey across the war torn Area. Despite the fact that Lelouch had attempted to halt the production of the ridiculous comics, it had soon become the most widely read piece of 'literature' in all of Britannia for that year. Bringing it up only re-opened an old wound. While it had certainly helped his popularity, he despised his lack of privacy when he was at his most vulnerable.

He smiled politely back at the couple, making small talk until he deemed that they had been suitably wooed, at which point he slipped away from them as quickly as possible, Gino in tow. He made his way over to the food; platters of elegant and suitably expensive food were piled high on tables that were groaning beneath the weight. He looked down the length of the table, before spying a single figure standing next to what could only be a pizza box. Evidently, somebody had made a special request for their favourite treat.

His eye twitched.

He strode over to the green-haired figure, who was regarding a slice of pizza forlornly, as she slowly raised it to her lips, before dropping it back into the box.

Lelouch snorted loudly.

To preserve her anonymity, she had agreed to wear a mask to the party and be introduced to everyone as a member of Lelouch's royal guard. A little annoyed at being forced to hide, she had decided on choosing her own mask and costume.

Naturally, she had dressed as Zero.

He snickered some more, as he imagined the pout that she was probably wearing behind the mask. She had dressed as Zero to annoy him, but her plan had backfired magnificently; she couldn't eat her pizza because of the mask.

"It's not funny." She whimpered, "Pizza!" She sounded so heartbroken that he couldn't help himself. As fun as it was to annoy her, he couldn't just leave her like this. He raised his hand to the mask, his fingers finding the small button in the awkward space between her collar and her chin. He pressed it, and the lower part of the mask retracted, freeing her mouth. She leaned forward, as if to kiss him, before diving on the box of pizza that lay before her.

"Thanks," she said, her mouth full of pizza, "I couldn't reach the button." Her voice had returned to its usual bored tone, leaving no trace of her outburst.

Lelouch cursed as he realised she had played him.

"Lelouch! There you are! There's someone you just have to meet." Lelouch barely had the time to whirl round before he was accosted by Gino, who guided him swiftly through the crowd of people, before parking him in front of a row of familiar faces.

"Your highness, I believe you know Milly Ashford." He said, indicating to the grinning and waving blonde, "Let me introduce you to her friends; Nunnally Lamperouge and Kururugi Suzaku."

Lelouch feigned shock at the sight of his sister and his erstwhile best friend. He knelt down to inspect her face, before grabbing her hand and placing a delicate kiss on the back.

"It's an honour, Miss Lamperouge. Tales of your beauty run rampant across the homeland."

Nunnally giggled. She had spent most of the day with her brother, but had returned to Ashford Academy to prepare for the party. Both siblings had agreed that it would be better to act as if they didn't know each other. Her identity was not well known among the inhabitants of Area 11, and she fully intended on keeping it that way. It didn't matter too much if people knew who she was, but she liked her privacy, and didn't want people mobbing her wherever she went. The student council knew who she was, but she trusted them not to tell anyone; they had been like a second family to her.

Lelouch straightened up, to look down his nose at Suzaku. "Kururugi-san. I trust that you have been taking good care of young Miss Lamperouge, here?" He said, haughtily.

Suzaku choked back a laugh at being addressed like that. He gave a flourishing bow. "Of course, _denka_. She's in _safe_ hands." He pulled at his collar with his right forefinger as he straightened up and out of the bow.

Lelouch nodded in recognition. He understood perfectly. The Japanese title, the emphasis on the word 'safe,' and the discrete hand gesture that solidified the meaning of his message. Quite simply, it meant;

_'She's scared that something will happen to you.'_

Lelouch regarded his sister with a warm, sappy look that was reserved for her alone. _'Maybe it would be best to have Cornelia talk to her. She dealt with Euphie before she joined the army.'_

"Brother." A stern voice sounded from behind him. It was Cornelia, standing next to a well turned out, vaguely Mediterranean looking man, probably in his mid-fifties. "I'd like you to meet the Minister of Defence of the EU." Lelouch raised a delicate eyebrow at that. "He's touring the Areas on a goodwill mission, while Schneizel does the same in Europe."

The man looked very uncomfortable, and Lelouch didn't blame him. There were few who would wish to have the Witch of Britannia as their personal guide. Lelouch smirked internally. Loath as he was to use his Geass, he couldn't let an opportunity like this simply pass him by. It could further his plans greatly. He pulled his sister away from the politician.

"Trade." He said simply. "You reassure Nunnally about me going into the military, and I'll take him off your hands for the rest of the evening."

Cornelia's shoulders relaxed visibly at that. "Deal." She said instantly. "But no backing out."

Lelouch shook his head, before returning to the European man, and guiding him away from his sister. With a subtle motion for C.C. to follow, he led the man from the busy hall and into the empty balcony.

"Are there any problems, your highness?" The man sounded Italian, if Lelouch had to guess, but he spoke with little accent.

"None at all." He waved away the man's concerns, before turning away from him to look at the magnificent gardens of the Viceroy's palace. "I just thought that you might like to spend some time away from my sister."

"Heh… She can be very… controlling, can't she?"

"It's in her nature; she's a soldier through and through." Lelouch still wasn't facing the man.

"An admirable trait, your highness."

"I'm sure." Lelouch said dryly. "Now, I hate to talk about politics..."

He whirled around to stare at the man. Both of his regal purple eyes bore the burning sigil of a crane in flight. He felt the familiar burn of power in his eyes, as well as the all-too welcome feeling of complete control.

"…But would you mind telling me what the EU plans to do?"

"Yes, your highness."

The man sounded ecstatic.

* * *

"C.C." His voice was soft and wavering. His head was pounding with an unnatural ferocity. He had sent away the politician, leaving himself and his witch alone on the dimly lit balcony. "It's getting stronger."

She knew better than to tease him. Instead, she tentatively wrapped two slender arms around him, pulling him into her.

"I know you can fight it. You've done it before." He shuddered as she traced slow circles on his back with her fingertips. "You weren't given a second chance just to lose to your own power."

He felt the power welling up behind his eyes. He could feel the blood roaring through his head, his pulse beating faster and faster. For the first time in many years, Lelouch felt true fear. These episodes had never been this intense before. Was this how Mao had lost control? Had he felt his Geass flowing through his veins, burning like fire as it went?

Lelouch was all but oblivious to the world. He could feel his muscles groaning in protest, as they were fed the raw power of his Geass. With an iron show of will, he focused his senses on the witch before him. On her long fingers that traced delicate patterns on her back. On the long green hairs that tickled his nose, trailing the tantalising smell of milk and almonds. He focused on her face, an atypical expression of worry printed on her usually apathetic features. He felt himself in her arms, pressing her close to him, making his pulse quicken in an altogether more pleasing way.

The drumming beat of his pulse reached a frenzied crescendo, before calming down, his power ebbing away as quickly as it had built. He felt his strength leave his limbs, as he sat down slowly, limply, unable to hold himself up any longer. He frowned tiredly.

His Geass had been gaining strength. It had released itself fully in his left eye, and then in his right as well in very quick succession. Maybe it was a side-effect of returning to the past, but his powers grew after each use. It had been a major factor in his decision to limit his use of Geass. Since his return to childhood, he must have used his Geass less than a dozen times, yet already it had reached this advanced stage of release. Would it only be a matter of time before he would become a slave to his own will?

No.

He wouldn't let himself become like Mao.

His father had conquered his own Geass. What kind of man would he be if he couldn't do the same?

For the time being, he knew that he would have to get by without Geass. The idea didn't bother him much; he hadn't been able to imprint his will upon his elder brother Schneizel, or any of the upper echelons of government, out of fear of attracting the Emperor's attention before Lelouch was ready. He had been lucky that his father was less than fond of Clovis; otherwise there may well have been an unpleasant situation already. He knew better than to fear his father, but he was rightfully nervous of his own power.

Then again; Lelouch vi Britannia had never been bested by anyone or anything in his life, and he certainly didn't intend to change that anytime soon.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

Lelouch stood between Lloyd Asplund and Cecile Croomy, as part of a long line of scientists, nobles and journalists, all staring up at a large shape, hidden rather poorly beneath a white sheet. Hundreds of people streamed across the large courtyard of the Ashford Academy, most waiting for either the important address by Viceroy Calares, or the equally important launch of a new prototype KMF, designed by the Ashford Foundation.

"I hope you'll enjoy the Knightmare, Your Highness. We designed it with you in mind."

"You've never failed to impress me, Miss Croomy, and I doubt that you'll start now." She blushed a brilliant red at his compliment, but looked elated nonetheless.

"Thank you, Your Highness. We never could have done it without you."

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Lulu. I hope we didn't waste all your money."

"Lloyd!" She hissed, scandalised. "Don't say that!"

"No, I don't mind. You can call me Lelouch if you want to, Miss Croomy. I think we know each other well enough to use first names."

She didn't get a chance to answer, as the elderly patriarch of the Ashford family began shuffling slowly across the raised stage. Conversations everywhere were brought to an abrupt halt, as the old man surveyed the open space, remaining silent. Lelouch smirked; the old man was good. He had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hands, and he hadn't even said anything yet. The long, drawn out silence hung heavily in the air, as the crowd remained restless, waiting for him to speak.

Reuben Ashford cleared his throat, as if preparing for a long and eloquent speech. In one swift motion that belied his age, he pulled the sheet from the figure.

"I give you, the Titan!" He called out gruffly.

Lelouch had to admit, it was a marvellous piece of work. The KMF stood a little taller than the Shinkiro, but seemed bigger somehow, as if its presence added to its size. It felt dangerous, predatory even. The sleek black shell oozed death, while the sharp claws and the arm-mounted slash harkens screamed wanton destruction. It didn't look quite as bulky as either the Lancelot or the Gloucester, but looked as if it had been built for speed. A narrow gold trim lined the edges of the head and torso of the machine, while the tips of each slash harken was dyed a brownish-red, the colour of dried blood. Without a doubt, the most imposing feature on the machine was the head. The top of its head was wreathed in a twisted metal crown, made of black steel that clashed brilliantly with the viciously flanged pauldrons that erupted from its shoulders like spiky black wings.

It was a weapon built to instil fear in all who saw it.

Lelouch missed most of what old man Ashford was saying, as he continued to admire the beast. He knew most of what was being said anyway, he had read the reports on it already; he had just never seen the damn thing. In terms of specs, it completely outclassed the old Glasgow's, and was a fair bit better than the newer Sutherlands. The Titan may have more trouble going against a Gloucester, however. The Titan was far more manoeuvrable, and a damn sight faster than the Gloucester, but the older machine was heavier and more stable. The added weight meant that Gloucester's could be converted into mid-distance artillery units, which seemed unlikely to be possible with the Titan, which held the edge in closer combat situations due to its speed. The rest of the armaments remained almost identical, though the weapons system on board the Titan may have been slightly upgraded by Lloyd and Cecile.

His ambling thoughts were distracted by a flash of red hair by the Titan.

_'Fuck!' _He thought, as beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead, _'I had hoped that I'd get more time!'_

Lelouch extricated himself from among the nobles, before making a beeline to where two redheads stood huddled; throwing occasional furtive glances at the pack of aristocrats that surrounded them.

"Kallen!" Lelouch called out in Japanese. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

She looked surprised at that, as if she hadn't expected him to be there. "Ah, Lelouch. I didn't expect to see you here in an _official capacity._" She didn't sound thrilled to see him, but then again, he didn't feel the same hatred that the old Kallen had felt towards Britannians. He could say that they were friends; he had managed to rope her into the school council once again, during one of his 'royal visits' to see his sister, and had subsequently won her over with his devotion to Nunnally. "Excuse me, Nii-san; I'll be back in a bit."

Lelouch gave a start. He hadn't realised that the redhead beside her was Kallen's brother, Naoto. He hadn't even known that he would be alive at this point.

_'Perfect. That makes things just a little easier.'_

Kallen grabbed his arm, before she led him away from the crowds, towards a small patch of trees.

"So, what do you want, Lelouch?" She asked flatly.

That was one thing he liked about this Kallen. Since she hadn't gotten fully involved in the resistance yet, it wasn't fully necessary for her to hide who she really was. Plus, she was one of the few people who called him by his name, not by his title.

He smiled placidly at her question. "Isn't it enough for me to want to spend time with you?"

She rolled her eyes, but a light blush lay dusted across her face. "Please. Don't take me for a fool. What. Do. You. Want?" She punctuated each word with a sharp jab of her finger against his chest.

Lelouch feigned injury, rather dramatically. "I'm hurt, Kallen, I thought you loved me." He simpered falsely. "But since you asked so nicely…"

He trailed off, as his expression turned dangerous. She flushed deeply at the look on his face. It was just so… Lelouch. There wasn't a word to describe it any other way. He smirked at the look on her face.

"… Would you like to become my knight?"

"Eh?"

To say that Kallen was surprised would be like saying that C.C. liked pizza; a severe understatement.

"My knight." Lelouch repeated firmly. "You know, a member of my Royal Guard, a Knight of the Realm. That sort of thing." Lelouch kept his tone deliberately light as he spoke to her. If he pushed her too far, too early she would snap, which would not be pleasant.

"Me? No! Why me?" She spluttered, still not in full control of her cognitive functions.

"You try and hold a little something back, but it's obvious that you're a fighter. Anyone with half a brain (and access to the Area 11 civilian files) could tell you that. Besides, I trust you around my sister, why shouldn't I trust you with my life?"

The not-so-subtle mention of Nunnally brought a flicker of a rare sentimental look to her face. "No! Why the hell should I agree?"

"You don't trust me?"

For some reason, Kallen felt very guilty after hearing his question, but she knew that she had to press on.

"I barely know you! Besides, you're a Britannian!"

"On the contrary, we've known each other for years. And what should my being a Britannian have anything to do with it? You're half Britannian as well."

"Then you know that I'm half-Japanese as well. I could never work for someone who helped to subjugate my country. It's wrong."

Inside his head, Lelouch was celebrating. _'I had hoped that she would say that.'_

"What if…" He pretended to hesitate. "What if I gave the Japanese their will back? If, by the end of today, the Japanese are in control of their own destiny once more, will you become my knight?"

That stopped her in her tracks. In all honesty it was a very tempting deal. If her people were released from the yoke of Britannian oppression, then her brother wouldn't have to fight. She would be able to leave home and live with him, without the fear of their resistance activities coming to light. It may have been a good plan, but she couldn't just make it easy for him. The longer she made him wait, the more he'd offer her. If she held off for a week, she might even find herself the Prime Minister of a New Japan. She knew it was a wild fantasy, but he had essentially just offered to make her dream come true in return for working for him. She wasn't dumb; she knew that he was hiding reasons why he wanted her as his knight. Reasons that were most likely of the unsavoury nature. She didn't care though; she would do anything to help the plight of her people.

"I'll give you one hour." She wore a superior smirk on her face, expecting him to kowtow, and beg for more time. "If the Japanese are free by half-past four, I swear to become your knight. If not, you'll just have to up the ante for the next time."

Lelouch stuck out his hand, before she had even finished speaking.

"Deal."

* * *

Lelouch stood on the stage, in front of hundreds of nobles, and dozens of cameras that were, at this moment, playing this live across Japan. His amethyst eyes danced with excitement, as he prepared what he was going to say.

Viceroy Calares had just finished introducing Lelouch, giving way for the young prince to announce the new laws that were to be brought into effect. Nobody noticed the bright red rims under the Viceroy's eyes, nor the impassioned way that he spoke about the Eleventh Prince's achievements in helping the poor and the weak.

"…. Lelouch vi Britannia."

Lelouch only caught the last part of the introduction, as he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts. When his name was called out, he steadied himself before beginning to speak.

"All men are not born equal! That is what we are told. Some people become strong, losing touch with what it was like to be weak. Others grow feeble, becoming disillusioned with the strong ones that rule them." He took a deep breath, as his voice dropped to an imposingly rich baritone. "This is not the way the world should be. The strong should become powerful to protect the weak. That is the responsibility of the strong."

Lelouch nodded towards the Viceroy, who was standing mutely in the wings, an expression of enraptured joy printed on his face.

"The Viceroy and I have agreed that things have to change, and change fast! Owing to the upward trend of terrorist activity in Area 11 over the past few years, this state has been under martial law and under the supreme control of the Viceroy for almost a year now. Unless directly superseded by orders from the Emperor himself, the Viceroy retains absolute control over Area 11."

Lelouch stifled a grin, as the cameras began to focus on him, zooming in for a close-up. He knew that the people were listening to him across Japan, that he had their attention now. His voice grew louder until the words were echoing across the room, like a royal edict.

"Under this jurisdiction, the Viceroy and I declare the immediate dissolution of the state of Area 11, and the formation of the Dominion of Japan. Furthermore, I declare the creation of the Federal Government of Japan, to administrate the domestic policies of the new Dominion. While the foreign policies of Japan shall be administrated by the Foreign Office in Pendragon, the people of Japan will be granted the right to vote for their representatives, regardless of race, colour or gender. Viceroy Calares shall remain as one of the two leaders of the Dominion, the other being a newly elected official."

His eyes wandered over the stunned crowd. Most had not even begun to comprehend what had happened. After everything that had happened, they were going to give the Japanese back their country? Lelouch could tell that many of the noblemen and women would be worrying about how the changes would affect their businesses. His eyes picked out a certain shocked looking redhead, before he gave her a roguish wink.

"People of Britannia, I ask that you do not be alarmed by these changes. It is my firm belief that a happy nation is a prosperous nation, and that this change will be in the best interests of all. I swear to you, that we will come out of this healthier and wealthier than when we went in."

Even if he had wanted to say any more, he wouldn't have been able to get the words out. People everywhere were on their feet. The Japanese whooped and cheered and clapped for their prince, as the Britannians, caught up in the atmosphere, and in the storm of Lelouch's words, cheered just as fiercely.

He raised his arms, and closed his eyes, letting the cheers wash over him, as a small smile formed on his face.

* * *

Lelouch sat with Gino in one of the corridors of the Viceroy's Palace. Jeremiah had gone to fetch Kallen and inform her of her duties and her newest living arrangements. Needless to say, she hadn't been best pleased, but she had kept her end of the deal. In the next room, the teenagers could hear the Emperor's voice roaring abuse at anyone he could see in the room, in particular, Cornelia.

Lelouch looked at Gino nervously. He hadn't fully taken into account how his youngest knight would take the news. He started as he felt his friend's hand clasp his shoulder reassuringly.

"Oi, Gino." He began hesitantly, "You think I did the right thing, don't you? About the Japanese?"

The normally exuberant blonde gave a tight smile. "You definitely did the right thing. Those people didn't deserve to be treated the way we treated them. Nobody deserves that. What you did was just the first step towards our repentance."

"You don't seem to see this the same way that most nobles do."

"Have I ever told you about why I joined the army?" His voice was quiet, as if he had troubling saying what he wanted to.

Lelouch shook his head, slightly confused.

"Ah… " His pained voice croaked out. "When I was younger, we had this Japanese maid called Kaori. She was beautiful, sweet and she had a voice like a nightingale. Needless to say, by the time I found out what love was, I was already head over heels for her. When I was fourteen, my father caught us together. He shouted at me, and then he … beat her and threw her out of the house. She was only sixteen. As soon as I could, I ran away and joined the military. I just couldn't take being in that house anymore. I couldn't understand how anyone could be that cruel to someone, just because of where they were from. I never did see her again. I don't know if she's dead or alive, but I do know that she would appreciate what you've done for the Japanese."

Gino lapsed into silence, and Lelouch knew that he wouldn't talk for a while. It had taken a lot of courage to tell him his secret, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to return the favour and tell his friends about his Geass.

The door slammed open, startling the two teenagers. A weary looking Cornelia stood in the doorway.

"Father has _requested_ your presence." She said lethargically.

Lelouch stood, before walking up to his sister and placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, sister. I truly am. You shouldn't have had to deal with him alone." He spoke quietly.

Cornelia responded with a bone-crushing hug and a nod, before she limped wearily down the corridor, not even stopping to greet Gino. Whatever his father had said, had obviously affected her very heavily.

Lelouch turned smartly on his heel, before entering the darkened room. A large screen dominated one wall, as the face of a larger-than-life Emperor scowled heavily at his son.

"Do not think to test me, boy." The Emperor growled out, fearsomely. His voice echoed menacingly around the empty room. Lelouch kneeled slowly, pressing his fist to his chest in an act of reverence. He lowered his head, not wanting to stare too long at his father's face. "You were out of line, and you must suffer the consequences. Evidently I made a mistake in sparing your life after your last outburst."

Lelouch's fist tightened, as he dug his fingers into his palm hard enough to draw blood.

"I had thought to send you off to Europe get married, but your elder sister talked me out of it. Instead, brat, you are to be deployed to Area 18 to replace a Lieutenant-Colonel of a regiment tasked to guard your eldest sister, Guinevere."

Lelouch was horrified, and rightfully so. Guard duty!

_'This could completely undermine the timeframe of my plans.' _

"For how long, Your Majesty?" He blurted out with uncharacteristic carelessness.

"UNTIL YOU LEARN YOUR PLACE, BOY!" His voice around across the room, leaving a painfully shrill ringing in Lelouch's ears.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The screen flickered once, before turning black.

_'Of all things, why Guard Duty?' _Lelouch raged.

Lelouch steadied himself, taking long, deep breaths. The guards stationed at the entrance to the room took this as their cue to leave, rather than watch their prince break down. Lelouch began to calm down quite quickly once he realised that there was nobody around.

Lelouch let a dark smirk form on his face.

_"_That could have been problematic."

He stood slowly, cracking his neck, before he began to amble casually towards the door, a smile etched permanently on his features.

"Objective one. Clear."

* * *

AN): This is the first real chapter of the actual plot. Some of the things that seem insignificant now, may become much more important later on.

No action in this chapter, but its prep for Lulu going into a war zone where there'll be loads of action. The Dominion thing was based loosely on Canada becoming self-governing from the British Empire

This chapter wasn't as easy to get out; parts of it had to be re-written quite heavily. I didn't have much time to do it either, because I had to do my UCAS university applications, as well as prepare for my SAT2 because I decided that I might as well apply to America as well.

Until Christmas, I'll be focusing on reading books on Engineering to prepare for any university interviews, so I will only be able to update around once a month, but I swear that I won't give up on the story. I've put far too much effort into this to just give up.

Next chapter's called 'Cry Havoc', and it's about Lulu of Arabia, and his exploits. If anybody wants to suggest which regiment of the army you want Lulu to join, I've narrowed it down to;

The Grenadier Guards, the Dragoon Guards, or the 42nd Foot The Black Watch.

It'll have no bearing on the plot, but if any of you have any preferences, just let me know. I'd rather use real regiments though, rather than making up the names, because it'll sound more authentic.

Thanks for Reading,

As always R&R,

Penhaligon


	5. Cry Havoc

Chapter 5 – Cry Havoc…

* * *

_The first time I met his Highness was in Egypt, 2016. He was a slip of a man; thin, tall, handsome. He had a twinkle in his eye, and a real easy smile that just drew you to him. The men found themselves always jabbering on to him about this and that. The Prince didn't seem to mind, though. I would talk constantly about myself, about my sister back home in Aberystwyth, and he would just smile and nod and try to help me with my problems. It didn't matter to him that he was royalty. He saw himself as just another one of us, ready to fight and die to protect his family. The men loved him for that. None of us cared about what he had done for the colonies; all the soldiers saw was a man who had the balls to protect what he thought needed to be protected. _

_We started to look more to him for leadership than to our proper commanding officer. Colonel Stevens had done a bang-up job in leading us before the Prince had gotten there, but he was… harsh. He was known as a 'right old bastard', a title he had rightfully earned, but he had kept us alive and kicking in trying times and that had to be worth something. _

_But still, there was always Lieutenant-Colonel vi Britannia, of His Majesty's 7__th__ Dragoon Guards. Despite his closeness with us, there was always something… untouchable about him. He had an air of invincibility around him that dared the men on, to do great and terrible things. He kept us alive, and well fed. Well rested and well paid. _

_He gave us victory and we loved him for it…_

_Machine Gun to Cairo, by Staff Sergeant Wilfred Mott, 7__th__ Dragoon Guards._

* * *

"Hostile convoy spotted. Twelve men, no Knightmares, half a mile and closing fast."

The static chatter of the radio echoed around the enclosed space, as Lelouch drummed his fingers tiredly on the console of his personal Knightmare; Titan. To be frank, he was more than a little bored. It had been almost two months since he had been forcibly transferred to Area 18, amidst the uproar caused by his political changes. True to his word, Japan was now being run by a parliamentary government, whose first set of laws had been to remove the Numbers system, and de-segregate the Britannians and the Japanese. The massive reforms undertaken by the former-Area-11 were welcomed all over the world, as a sign of Britannian change. Subsequently, Lelouch had been hailed across the subjugated world as a visionary, and a saint.

His lips had curled into a decidedly unfriendly sneer, at that thought. _'A saint? Are they completely bloody mad?'_

Still, he was more than willing to bear it, considering the way that it suited his plans. Areas around the Empire clamoured for reform, much to the outrage of the upper echelons of Britannian society. The nobles had started baying for blood. At least, until the facts and figures started to pour in. In the month since the political reform, the production output of Japan had increased by almost 15%. Unemployment levels were down, street crime levels were negligible, and terrorist acts had stopped almost completely. Most important, to the Britannian elite at least, was that they were making money off of it. With the rebuilding of Japan firmly under way, a vast market had opened up, fuelled by increased Sakuradite production; creating huge swathes of new jobs.

After everything the people had gone through, it seemed as if the fortunes of the Japanese were looking up.

The situation here, however, wasn't looking quite so optimistic. Aside from the entrenched armies that had fought Cornelia to a standstill in the East, there were also the local militias and armed resistance groups that had been causing trouble across the country. Typically, the 7th Dragoon Guards had been tasked with protecting the Area Capital; Cairo. In short, Lelouch was little more than a glorified guard detail for his eldest sister, Guinevere.

Egypt had become a dangerous place to be. The EU had started to increase their levels of support to the Arab League, and had started to provide them with guns, Knightmares and ammunition, rather than just money. Apparently, the social changes that Britannia had undergone told the EU that Britannia was weak, and that it needed diplomacy to hold onto its colonies, rather than using pure military might. To this end, the EU had all but declared Egypt as the first battleground between the two most advanced nations in the world. European troops had begun massing in Cyprus, while their Navy patrolled the Mediterranean and the Eastern Atlantic heavily. The Royal Britannian Navy, outmanned and outgunned in this sector, had fled east, skulking in the Indian Ocean, by the entrance to the Suez Canal.

With the threat of war hanging over Egypt, it came as more than a surprise that the area surrounding Cairo, the vast and hugely important Nile delta would be protected by only two small regiments, a grand total of less than two-thousand men. In contrast, Cornelia controlled three divisions in her approach towards Damascus, with each division consisting of over twelve-thousand men.

The impatient chatter of gunfire jerked Lelouch out of his thoughts.

"Enemy lines have crossed Point-Alpha. Charlie Company engaging."

He gunned his KMF forwards, surging past the rock formation that the rest of the small platoon had been hiding behind. He immediately spotted a rag-tag bunch of fighters surrounding a worn and beaten old jeep. They were firing wildly at anything that moved, as gunfire erupted from the rocky outcrops around them. Lelouch approached them quickly, shrugging off the bullets that simply glanced off of his armour. He levelled his KMF battle-rifle at the man he assumed was the leader of the group. He promptly shot off a few rounds into the sand by the man's feet, before pressing the warm barrel of the rifle against his head.

"Surrender." He growled.

* * *

"You're late!" The voice was clipped, curt, and more than a little angry.

"Patrol took longer than I expected; we encountered a few hostiles." Lelouch's tone was forcibly respectful, if a little patronising. "My apologies."

The man before him was tall, but not impressively so, surrounded by an ever-present air of false bluster and heavy cologne. Colonel Sir Patrick Stevens was an altogether unimpressive man, prone to bouts of drink-induced rage, and subject to at least three separate investigations by the OSI. He also happened to be Lelouch's direct superior in the military hierarchy.

"Well sit down man, and be quick about it!" Lelouch wrinkled his nose at the overpowering aroma of cheap alcohol that assaulted his nose whenever the Colonel spoke.

"Yes sir."

Stevens leaned forwards, folding his hands under his chin, as he began to speak. "I've received word from our boys in the SIS." He paused dramatically. "Apparently, the EU intends to strike at us from the North, coming out of their strongholds in Turkey. Montgomery has refused to fight, saying that his men, all British troops, cannot fight their Britannian brethren. He's being threatened with a Court Martial, but for the meantime his men will remain stationed in Gibraltar, preventing our Navy from getting into the Med."

"Who's going to lead the attack then?"

"Now, this is unconfirmed, as the bastards haven't even declared war yet, but we believe the assault will be led by Maréchal Ney."

Lelouch whistled in appreciation. "They're not playing around, are they?" Ney was the highest ranking officer in the French branch of the European army, but still remained a fearsome field commander. While not necessarily a tactical genius, he was rightly feared because of his tenacity, skill and ruthlessness on the battlefield.

"We've been given orders to move to support your sister when the time comes."

That honestly surprised Lelouch. "You intend to leave Cairo undefended?" He asked incredulously. "What if the Europeans attack? There'll be a massacre! What about the Rounds? Can't we send for reinforcements from them?"

Stevens shook his head ruefully. "Bismarck must remain with the Emperor, Bradley has already been deployed with your sister, and the rest of them are either keeping the peace in Area 7 or putting down that revolt in Area 4." He sighed heavily. "We're very much on our own, Lieutenant-Colonel, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Lelouch stiffened his back, before staring blankly at the wall behind his commander. "If those are your orders, Sir." His tone was cold again, as he let his disapproval show.

Stevens waved him away tiredly, reaching for his abandoned glass tumbler of whisky. He knew that he wouldn't find the answers to his troubles at the bottom of a bottle, but that didn't stop him from looking.

Lelouch rose quietly and left the room without looking back, his eyes flashing dangerously. He wandered through the maze of corridors that made up the Viceroy's palace, heading slowly towards his quarters.

He shut the door to his room behind him heavily, before reaching for the mobile phone that he kept in his pocket. He snapped it open, pressing a number on the speed dial. After three rings, the man on the other end answered.

"Sir?" Jeremiah didn't sound startled. He sounded ready, like he always did; ready and waiting to execute his Prince's will.

"Initiate Plan-R." He said simply. "Warn the others. We strike tonight."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

* * *

Lelouch's eldest sister was, without a doubt, one of the least engaging people that Kallen had ever met. She was loud and brash, capricious and bitchy, and she had far more money than sense. Seeing as Kallen was from a very prominent and wealthy noble family and that she had just been named as her brother's knight, it was only natural that Guinevere su Britannia had taken a shine to her, despite the fact that Kallen was half Elev- …ahem… Japanese.

Kallen had found herself wishing for Lelouch to give her some sort of duty, anything really to get her away from the grey haired devil. Bastard though he was, Lelouch was far better company than his sister, despite the fact that he seemed to delight in her misery; sending her off to spend more and more time with the First Princess.

_'Send me off to kill someone, for all I care, just get me the fuck away from her!' _She thought violently.

The princess stood for everything that Kallen hated in the world; she was the epitome of the corruption and decadence of the majority of the Britannian elite. She built lavish monuments, threw opulent parties and built massive edifices in her own honour, with the money that she had been given to help the people that she was governing. All around her the people were in pain; famine and disease running rampant across the poorer areas of the once-great city.

Kallen never understood why Lelouch refused to act. She knew that he felt the plight of the oppressed citizens. She knew that deep down, he was a good man. He had to be. Why else would he have helped the Japanese? Kallen was sure that he was a decent man, which made his inaction rankle her all the more. How could he let this lie? Every time she had attempted to speak out in favour of the Numbers, he had placed a hand on her arm, looked at her with those entrancing amethyst eyes and told her to wait. To bide her time, before they struck. Together.

A light blush dusted her face, as she looked up at the object of her thoughts, sitting across from her, on the other end of the grand dinner table. There were only four of them at the table; Lelouch, Colonel Stevens, Guinevere and herself. It had originated as a private dinner between Lelouch and his commanding officer, but Guinevere had quickly latched onto the plans and dragged Kallen with her, to form an impromptu dinner party.

"So, brother. A little birdie told me that you and your men were going to fly the coop soon." She spoke with hardly restrained glee in her voice; she was hardly fond of her half-commoner siblings.

"Indeed." He said dryly, "I can only apologise for taking your friend away as well." He indicated towards Kallen. "Maybe if you ask her she'll consider transferring to your guard."

Kallen tightened her grip on her cutlery, as her knuckles started to turn white.

'I. Will. Kill. You.' She mouthed openly at him. His eyes danced with amusement, at that, but he managed to keep a straight face.

"There's an idea! Kallen, why don't you become one of my guards?"

"I apologise, your highness, but I am honour bound to serve Prince Lelouch until the day he dies." She spoke through heavily gritted teeth. _'Though I might have to make that day come sooner, rather than later.'_ She thought angrily, glaring at Lelouch.

"It's a shame, Kallen. We could have had such fun!"

"Again, I can only apologise."

The rest of the dinner came and went quite quickly and far more joyfully. The Colonel became better company as the meal progressed, copious amounts of sherry and red wine making him far more agreeable. Even Guinevere began to lighten up a little, taking to simply ignoring Lelouch instead of passing snide comments. Wonderful though the meal was, Kallen constantly found herself thinking about the poorer people outside of the palace walls, and whether they would find food tonight.

As the last rays of sunlight faded from the room, the group excused themselves from the dining room, and headed towards the library, for a night-cap. The harsh sounds of an angry Kallen berating a cowed Lelouch echoed through the cavernous palace, and filtered back into the now-empty dining room. The heavy, drunken laughter of Colonel Stevens could be heard as well, as the group meandered through the house.

Amidst all the commotion, nobody heard a silent figure, cloaked in black, detach itself from the ceiling of the dining room, and land on the floor without an audible sound.

Nobody noticed the figure cock its head, listening intently to the sounds of laughter, before silently padding towards the noise, into the house.

Nobody saw it draw a knife from its belt, testing the keen edge on its finger-tips.

Underneath the black cloth, the assassin grinned maniacally.

Nobody detected him, because he was good at his job.

* * *

The library was a warm, walnut-panelled room, filled with shelves that lined the walls, and littered with hundreds of books on anything and everything. A large fire crackled in the hearth, which was surrounded by a small drinks cabinet, a pair of sofas and an old television set.

Lelouch, Kallen and Guinevere relaxed in the sofas, letting their bodies sink into the soft leather. Colonel Stevens had excused himself earlier, citing that he needed to use the necessities. With a flick of the remote, the TV blared into life, as Lelouch fixed the channel onto the news.

A well-turned out man stood in front of a cheering crowd of people, addressing them in what Kallen thought was Italian. The man looked vaguely familiar to her, as if she had seen him in a picture somewhere.

"His name is Giuseppe Mazzini. He's the EU's Minister of Defence. I met him once at a party in Japan. He's a nice enough fellow; quite sensible."

Guinevere grunted in acknowledgement, but Kallen gave a start of realisation. She had seen a picture of Lelouch and the Italian man talking on the balcony at some function. Both men had made quite the impression on the other, as both Lelouch and Mazzini had only voiced rousing endorsements for the other since their encounter. Kallen listened as Lelouch turned the volume on the Television higher, so they could hear the translator speak.

_"…Yesterday morning our ambassador to Britannia, gave a choice to their Prime Minister, Schneizel el Britannia, saying that unless the Holy Britannian Empire withdrew its forces from the lands of the Arab League, our dear and trusted allies, there would be war between the EU and Britannia. I deeply regret to say that they have not complied with our most reasonable demands, and as such, our nation is now at war with the state of Britannia."_

The man took a deep breath, as he waited for the patriotic cries of the crowd to die down.

_"People of Europe. I call upon you now, at the turning of the tide; stand firm! Our union has always stood against the tyrannical evil that is dictatorship, and we stand once again as the only defence for the free world against the oppressive despotism that is Britannia."_

Kallen was speechless. They were at war. She had fought in many small skirmishes since she came to Egypt, but the thought of a war on such a massive scale chilled her to the core. She felt a hand rest comfortingly on her shoulder, and she turned to look at Lelouch. He looked a little shocked, but his face was filled with a grim determination and a little bit of pain.

Lelouch was a little surprised, but not at what had happened. He was surprised that nobody in the crowd, or the people watching across the world had seen the unnatural red glow that was being emitted from the eyes of Mazzini.

His eyes twitched at the memory of the power it had taken to fully Geass the man for so long. Lelouch grinned internally. He had to admit that Mazzini had done a fabulous job in reciting the speech that Lelouch himself had written for him. He had made it into a work of pure theatre; a rousing speech that would drive the EU to war, and in the same stroke, set up the scapegoat for when they failed.

Lelouch pulled out his phone, quickly. "Did you see the news?... Good, have both regiments ready to mobilise. I have a feeling that the information leak was a ruse. Maintain the defensive positions outside the city; we don't want to be caught unawares."

His grip on her shoulder tightened, and he gave her a reassuring nod.

"Don't worry. We're going to be fine." His eyes glinted excitedly, hidden from view by his long hair.

_'Famous last words.'_

* * *

Guinevere su Britannia walked slowly through the long corridors of the palace. Something was up, and she had no idea what to do. Colonel Stevens had not returned after his early exit, so Lelouch and Kallen had gone to try and find him. She had been all but ordered by her brother, to return to her quarters as soon as possible and to stay in contact with her guards throughout the night.

She slipped into her room quietly, not bothering to turn the lights on, before she collapsed onto her bed and wriggled her way under the covers. It had been a long day, and she was looking forwards to getting as much sleep as she could. Despite her obvious exhaustion, she couldn't get to sleep. In the darkness, the silence that filled her room felt thick and oppressive, almost smothering.

Three sharp raps on the door punctuated the silence, as Guinevere let out a breath that she didn't realise she had been holding in. Lelouch had said that her guard would stop by to check on her after a while.

"Enter." She was glad that she had managed to compose herself before she spoke.

"Ma'am? I've been sent to check on you, is everything alright?" The man spoke with a growling, distinctly military tone of voice that was somehow reassuring and terrifying at the same time. There was something slightly strange about the way he spoke English. He spoke without an accent, but it seemed forced; as if he was making an effort to speak this way.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Now, if you don't mind, leave me be."

"I'm afraid, ma'am, that I do mind." His tone was chillingly cold, as he closed the door behind him, shutting them both in the dark room. Guinevere heard a grating sound, like that of metal rubbing against metal, and she saw the man pull out a wickedly sharp knife, still dripping with the blood of its previous target. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she could hear the faint sound of pounding drums, echoing around the heavily silent room.

He approached her languidly, knowing that nobody could hear her scream from here. He took his time, savouring her shocked expression, relishing in the fear that seemingly seeped from her. She didn't even bother to struggle; she just looked up at him with large, sorrowful grey eyes that looked oh so surprised.

The knife descended.

It all happened so fast. Guinevere didn't even have the time to react. The door burst open, flooding the room with light, and Guinevere vaguely heard two shots being fired, before she felt something land with a heavy _thunk_ on the bed next to her. She turned to stare at the knife that was slowly dripping blood on her silk bed sheets, the knife that had come so close to ending her all-too-short life.

She felt a pair of long arms close around her and pull her up to her feet, shaking her out of her daze. She looked at the grim face of her younger brother, who held a still steaming gun in his left hand. She looked away from the corpse that lay face down on her bedroom floor. She steeled herself mentally; she was the Viceroy, she would not break!

"What happened?" Her voice was rich and commanding, bringing a wry smile to Lelouch's face as he realised how strong his sister really was.

"We found Stevens in the bathroom with his throat slit. The bastard caught him with his pants down, literally. As soon as I found him, I came to get you. I guessed that you were the real target."

The faint sound of the pounding drums echoed again around the room, getting louder and louder.

"Can you hear that? What… What is it?"

She sounded a little lost, not scared, but confused and unsure of how to proceed.

"That, sister, is the sound of the enemy guns."

The bewildered look remained fixed on her face. Lelouch sighed deeply.

"We're under siege."

* * *

"Jeremiah!" Lelouch called into his radio, as he ran through the palace, Kallen in tow.

"Yes, Your Highness!"

"Report!"

"Two regiments are attacking from the North, along the river. They have at least one more regiment in reserve. I'd say around three thousand men."

"Whose are they?"

"They're mostly Egyptian militia, but there are soldiers of the Arab League as well."

"Defences?"

"Mostly intact. They haven't gotten past the outer defences yet, but it's getting harder to hold onto them. The 19th Regiment of Foot are in control of the outer defences, the 7th Dragoon Guards have set up mortar and artillery positions closer in to the city. They're waiting on your orders to fire."

"Have the first six companies of the 19th retreat to the inner lines. When they've reached, tell them to take control of the artillery positions and fire in front of the outer defences. Once the barrage starts, pull the rest of the 19th back, and get the 7th's KMFs up and running. Tell Gino to meet me at the barracks at the Western edge of the City with as many Knightmares as you can spare. Also sound a city-wide siren, tell the people to head towards the South East and get out of the city."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

* * *

By the time Kallen and Lelouch had reached the barracks, Gino and C.C. were already there, waiting for them. Around forty men and women were waiting in the hangar with them, nervously pacing as they waited for their commander.

"Where's Stevens?" One officer called out to Lelouch.

"He's dead. I'm assuming command." He said simply, as he ran past, not bothering to stop and explain himself. "Alright gentlemen, mount up! The 19th are crumbling, and they need our help. Let's show those bastards what a real regiment can do!"

The soldiers let out a hoarse cheer, before they each scrambled for their own machine. C.C. grinned at Lelouch, as she dropped into the cock-pit of her bright pink Sutherland. Using surprisingly delicate fingers for a KMF, C.C. unfurled a large red and gold pennant, bearing the new regimental standard that Lelouch had wanted. Three golden lions, frozen in mid-pounce, displayed across a deep scarlet background, shimmering in the light as the flag swayed with every movement. It was the old standard of a long-dead country, a symbol that had struck fear and hope into whoever looked upon it, for many centuries.

"Move out!" Lelouch roared, before forcing the Titan forwards, swivelling quickly through the streets of Cairo on his land-spinners, not bothering to check where the rest of the men where. He knew that they would be behind him, staying in formation, with Kallen and Gino hovering over his shoulders like nervous mother-hens over their precious young.

"My Prince!" The radio crackled softly. It was Jeremiah again' and he sounded panicked. "They've pushed us back! We abandoned the mortars, and pulled the artillery back further, but we're almost inside the city. If they trap us in the streets with their Knightmares, then we're finished."

Lelouch quickly brought up a map of the North-Eastern section of the city. A plan began to form in his head.

"Blow the section of the road behind you, that'll slow them down. Start a fighting retreat, draw their Knightmares into the streets, but keep slowing them down. Avoid direct confrontations. Pull back until you reach the place where the ring road crosses the river. Pull back beyond the bridge, then hold them there."

"Yes Sir!" He acknowledged.

"…and Jeremiah?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Wait for the sign." He said cryptically, before he closed communications.

Lelouch veered the Titan around, now heading towards the river that flowed through the heart of Cairo. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and a creepy grin was plastered across his face. Lelouch lived for this kind of thing. Pitting his wits and mettle against the enemy excited him immensely.

"The game's afoot!"

* * *

The remnants of the two regiments massed on one side of the bridge, looking out across the mighty river Nile. They had set up two artillery positions on each side of the bridge, ready to open fire on the lumbering enemy Knightmares. Four large Challenger 2 tanks blocked the bridge, while the rest of the regiments found cover behind pieces of rubble or in the burnt out buildings that lined the river bank. It had been a quarter of an hour since the Prince's orders last reached them, and the men were beginning to get nervous.

Their enemy outnumbered them almost two to one, and it showed. They lined the opposite bank, waiting for their Knightmares that were still struggling down the broken roads behind them. Their men were loud; cheering, jeering and taunting the silent Britannian troops.

A worried titter echoed through the Britannian lines, as the first of the enemy Knightmares drove onto the bridge. There were at least forty or fifty of them, travelling in rows of three, ready to move from marching pattern into their assault formations.

"Steady lads!" Jeremiah shouted, over the noise of the enemy. "Steady."

The first of their Knightmares had reached the middle of the bridge, well within firing range, and had begun to accelerate, when a flare erupted into the night sky from behind the Egyptian forces.

"That's the signal! Give 'em Hell!"

As one, the tanks and artillery jerked to life, firing shell after shell at the Knightmares on the bridge. The vicious barrage struck the first few ranks of the closely packed Knightmares, incinerating them in a hellish firestorm. The hapless pilots of the machines further back, trapped, and with nowhere else to go, were forced to eject before their machines exploded as well. A cheer went up from the Britannians, as they saw their own KMF's, the unmistakeable Titan in the lead, smash into the open flanks of the beleaguered enemy, on the opposite bank of the river.

Lelouch spun the Titan around. He gutted one of the enemy Knightmares with his knife, before swivelling forwards and striking another in the throat. He fired both sets of his Slash Harkens at a crumbling section of a building, bringing it crashing down on the soldiers and machines below. He paused to take a breather, as the Britannian Sutherlands swarmed around him protectively.

Lelouch saw C.C.'s ridiculously pink Sutherland spear a Knightmare with his gold-and-red standard, before forcing the flag into the ground, the enemy machine still impaled on it. Kallen was in her element, running circles around the enemy pilots, before striking at their weak spots with both knife and shotgun at the same time. She, Lelouch noticed, refused to so much as look at the ordinary soldiers. She couldn't bring herself to kill them once they were out of their machines. Gino had no such qualms about killing. He spurned the use of a knife, instead choosing to blow holes in anything that moved with a rather large KMF Battle-Rifle.

Within minutes of their charge, the Britannian Knightmares had driven their enemy back along the river, forcing all but the most hardened of soldiers to surrender. The rest of their men had been corralled onto the bridge, where their weapons were stripped from them by the Britannian infantry. A number of KMF's barred both ends of the bridge, keeping them from breaking and running away. The men trapped on the bridge watched as those who refused to surrender were cut down, fighting to the last man.

Lelouch clambered out of the Titan, standing on one of its broad shoulders, looking out at the mass of soldiers who had gathered round him. The men and women were all sweaty and tired, some of them caked in blood, mud and sand. Lelouch knew that it wasn't the time for a grand speech.

"The day is ours, gentlemen!" He punched his fist into the air, as he let a broad grin spread across his face. "All hail Britannia!"

"ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!"

* * *

"My Prince!"

The voice of Lelouch's first knight echoed through the empty throne room of the Viceroy's palace.

"We're alone now, Jeremiah. You can address me by my name."

A wry smile graced Jeremiah's face. "Yes, my Prince."

Lelouch rolled his eyes, tiredly.

"What is it?"

"Regimental report, sir." The Prince waved for him to continue. "Their numbers first, sir. Over four-hundred dead, more than twice that of wounded, and another eleven hundred taken prisoner."

Lelouch grunted impatiently at the figures; they really didn't matter to him. The important ones were their own losses.

"Our numbers now. We lost four of the new Knightmares, none captured, around one hundred wounded, and sixty four men dead, including Colonel Stevens."

"A fair few." He said softly.

"Good men, the lot of them. Even the Colonel. He was a bastard, but was it really necessary to kill him? Surely we could've just bought him off?"

Lelouch clasped his fingers, before looking directly into Jeremiah's eyes. There was disapproval there, the Prince knew.

"The men needed the push. They needed to think that their princess was in danger, and that their commander had sacrificed himself for them. Without that push, there would have been many more casualties today."

Jeremiah nodded thoughtfully, still not thoroughly convinced, but willing to trust his liege-lord.

"Besides," A mischievous grin grew on Lelouch's face, "Who said I killed him?"

"But…"

"I used my Geass on him, painful though it was, to wipe his memories, before I gave him a disguise and sent him packing."

"You really are a cunning bastard, aren't you sir?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." Jeremiah's jovial tone dropped, dangerously. "I'm afraid to say that we have bigger problems to deal with right now."

At Lelouch's quizzical look, he carried on speaking.

"The regiment of soldiers from the Arab League that stayed out of the battle have started marching North West, along the coastal roads, towards Tubruq, well within Arab Territories."

"What of it?"

"The 3rd Home Fleet of the EU is anchored at Tubruq. The Arabs aren't retreating, sir, they're fetching more men."

"Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Any idea how many men we're talking about?"

"Anywhere between a brigade and a division, but certainly enough to blow away our defences."

"Give the order to pursue, then." Lelouch spoke tiredly, with his head buried in his hands. It was going to be a long night.

"Hopefully, we can catch the regiment before it gets there."

Lelouch looked up, a little hopefully. "How far is it?"

"Roughly five hundred miles." Jeremiah answered immediately.

Lelouch gave a loud groan, before he got up from the throne, popping his joints.

"No rest for the wicked, eh?

* * *

**AN:** I didn't really like parts of this chapter, but I kept them in because they're necessary for later parts of the story. To recap, in this chapter; Lulu joined a regiment, war has broken out between the EU and Britannia. A minor attack on Cairo was beaten off, Lulu faked an assassination attempt to gain control, and the foundations of a long and (I hope) epic battle have been laid down.

In this chapter I tried to tie together the two aspects of the character of this Lelouch; the brilliant bastard of a seventeen year old emperor, and the naïve innocence of a ten year old child. I think that both are parts of the new, sixteen year old Lelouch, and that each could rear its head in certain circumstances (much more of the ruthless, bastard Lelouch comes later)

I have to admit that I don't have much of a plan for much longer. I've planned out the next couple of chapters, but thinking beyond that has been very difficult. I would appreciate if anyone wanted to send me some very basic ideas or things that they wanted to see, just to get my brain working again.

As always, R&R,

Thanks,

Penhaligon


	6. Who Dares, Wins

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Code Geass

* * *

I

_Four days it took us. Four days heavy march through the heat and the sand and the dust, before we reached Tubruq. Naturally, we were already half a day too late, and the army of the EU had reached the port; Eighteen-thousand angry Frenchmen stood ready to chase us all the way back to Cairo. As soon as we got there, we turned round, fleeing back across the deserted countryside with our tails between our legs. I'm not ashamed to say, that by this time, all the men thought that we were doomed to be cut down in the middle of the desert, hundreds of miles from civilization. _

_Our army was in tatters. Half of the 19__th__ Regiment of Foot had been ordered to aid in the evacuation of civilians from the Nile Delta, led by two of Prince Lelouch's Knights; Sir Gino Weinberg and Dame Kallen Stadtfeld. We had around one-hundred-and-twenty KMF's in working order, each carrying spare energy fillers. All in all, we were fourteen-hundred tired men and women in a foreign land with little hope of rescue. _

_On the second night of our retreat, we camped outside the town of Mersa Matruh. It was there that Prince Lelouch decided that he had had enough. He called the officers together into his tent, where we spent the next night poring over sets of maps, charts, radio reports and dispatches sent by our Indian Ocean Fleet. As dawn approached, I could see a glint in the Prince's eye. He had a plan, but he couldn't just tell us; we had no idea who might be listening. He began directing us individually to certain points on the map, granting us each a certain number of men, with the instructions to hold the line. There was no second set of orders from the Prince; there was no forlorn promise of reinforcements from him._

_"There'll be no retreat from here." The Prince told us._

_"If needs be, Sire, we'll die were we stand." One of the older officers replied._

_The Prince didn't reply. Instead, he called up half a dozen of the more senior officers to him, and told them to each pick four men to be ready to move against the enemy immediately. He then summoned a handful of junior officers; ensigns, lieutenants and the like (myself included), and called us to draw up the sixty best Knightmare Pilots from the 7__th__ Dragoon Guards and meet him outside the city._

_I don't remember much of what happened in between the meeting and our departure. Everything was a whirlwind of motion. All around me, people were grabbing bandoliers of ammunition, checking energy fillers, cleaning land-spinners. What I do remember, is what the Prince said to Jeremiah Gottwald, who he had left in command of the men at Mersa Matruh. _

_"Major." He said, keeping his address proper in front of the men, "If, after five days you do not hear from me, assume my demise and… tell my sisters that 'I'm sorry.'"_

_Reading it now, fifty years on, it doesn't sound like much… but back then, in the cool desert night; with all the men looking on silently at their Prince… it was heart breaking. Without another word, he mounted his KMF, the ever-imposing Titan, and moved off into the night. The sixty of us he had summoned, plus the other twenty-four that were travelling with us in our Knightmares, scrambled to follow him, a pink Sutherland in the lead. _

_We followed the road, which we had travelled twice in the last week, throughout that day. As night approached, we were forced off the road and into the desert in order to circumvent the massive European force that was approaching us. The land-spinners became all but useless in the sinking sands, and we were forced to switch to manual walking; where the pilot is forced to physically walk inside his machine for it to imitate his movements and move forwards. It was a slow and arduous process; the heat inside the cockpit grew intolerable, even in the night. To save energy, we had to shut down anything that we didn't need, including the internal cooling systems. It was a hellish trip through the desert. For two whole days we marched through the sands, only stopping to rest for a few hours when the sun was at its highest._

_On the evening of our second day's march, more than a week since we left Cairo, we emerged from the desert to find the city of Tubruq…_

_The Secret 7__th__: The Formation of the 22 SAS, Colonel David Stirling, 3__rd__ Artist Rifles_

* * *

Four figures dressed in black dropped down from a building onto the street. Hitching their guns up onto their shoulders, they vanished like shadows in the wind, each figure heading in a different direction.

"Detail-A, approaching operations point."

The radio crackled quietly, as the first figure waited for a response. The silence was almost deafening, as the man crouched closer in to the wall of a building. A bored female voice sounded from the radio.

"Detail, proceed with the assigned mission, then move on to the rendezvous point."

The man shivered at the sound. The woman at the other end of the radio was by far the most feared member of the Prince's entourage. Nobody knew her name, or what she looked like. She never showed her face, instead hiding behind a black mask that looked oddly reminiscent of the king on a chess board. Many of the men, while on kitchen duty, had described the sheer terror of hearing the nonchalant voice from behind them, before seeing a flash of green, and being knocked unconscious. Without fail, they had all woken up a few hours later, to find that the pantry had been raided and all of the frozen pizza missing.

Worse still, was that she was in charge of this mission.

"Understood, ma'am." He said respectfully, careful not to enrage her in any way.

The man slinked through the city, under the cover of darkness, approaching a small tower on the outskirts of the town, by the docks. Ripping open his backpack, he knelt swiftly at the base of the tower, before pulling out a set of charges and placing them carefully at each corner of the tower. Half an hour later, he stood and left quickly, checking the timer that he had connected to the detonator. He had thirteen minutes before the charges would go off, taking the radio tower, and a large chunk of the surrounding area with it as well. Dumping the now empty rucksack, the man slipped away from the tower, moving through the darkness, as he made his way through the city, and towards the point where the rest of the army was camped.

He quickly made his way through the city, soon finding himself at the tall buttress of earth and stone that marked the edge of the town. Without even bothering with a rope, he clambered rapidly up the face of the wall, the cracks in the mortar providing him with plenty of hand holds. He scoffed silently as he pulled himself over the edge. They hadn't even bothered posting a watch to look over the city, thinking that their enemy lay far from their city. He hadn't seen any indication of a military presence since he entered the city. He dropped himself to the floor, rolling as he landed, his feet kicking up the dust. Glancing left and right, he took off running towards the dunes, behind which his Prince was camped.

_'Too fucking easy.'_ He smirked.

* * *

"Oi Lelouch, they're all here. Now pay up."

Without blinking, Lelouch slid a plate full of pizza towards the masked witch sitting next to him, before he turned back to the reports in front of him. His fingers slid across a map, lingering on certain points on the sheet.

"Sir, all twenty-four targets have been hit successfully, with only two casualties. Reports say that all hostiles have been put down with extreme prejudice."

"Excellent, Corporal… Stirling, was it?"

"Yes sir. All communications are down. We hit the radio towers, telephone lines and the cell towers. We cut the fibre cables and we have signal jammers in place around the city. There's no possible way that the garrison can get a message out."

Lelouch grinned, clasping his hands together, as he stood up from his chair.

"Very well done, Stirling. Very well done indeed."

"Thank you sir. I live to serve."

"I'm sure." Lelouch said dryly. "In any case, how would you like to make this a permanent arrangement?"

"I'm not sure I follow, sir."

Lelouch gestured wildly. "You know… to do jobs that the regular lads can't. Special operations and the like. Infiltration. Sabotage. Counter-terrorism. Reconnaissance. High risk missions that nobody else could do. You could operate behind enemy lines, as commandos." He was pacing around the tent quickly, his thoughts gaining steam.

"But what about our regiments? Our commanders?"

"Don't worry about them. You'll have a new hierarchy and answer to me alone. You'll all get new training, uniforms and a designation as a new regiment. How does that sound?"

"That sounds… bloody fantastic, sir! If you'll pardon my French."

"Now all that matters is a name… err… Stirling, what regiment were you enlisted in initially?"

"The Parachute Regiment."

"Impressive. How about naming it the 'Special Air Service', then?"

"Are we to be an Airborne Regiment then?"

"Oh no, definitely not… but it can't hurt for our… 'enemies' to think so, can it?"

"Why not give us a detachment designation then? Make it seem like there's more of us than there really are."

"A nice idea. Welcome then, Corporal Stirling to the 'L' detachment, Special Air Service brigade."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me."

Kallen sighed irritably at yet another outburst that had sprung from her unruly charge.

"Your highness, please-"

"It's a camel." Guinevere's voice was deadly quiet, cold even. "It's a bloody camel!" She spat.

For the hundredth time, Kallen cursed the flip of the coin that had landed her the _honour_ of escorting the First Princess from Cairo. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself before attempting to reason with the stubborn woman.

"It's Prince Lelouch's orders; you are to be extracted from Egypt, and taken to Jerusalem where escorts will be waiting to take you back to the Homeland."

"Yes, I know that! But why must I be taken on a camel? I see no reason for it!"

"You cannot be taken by air, as the French have control of the skies between here and Damascus. We cannot take you by sea, as the fleet is currently engaged in the Med. We cannot take you in an armoured vehicle, because we have none! Your knights are not here, which means that I am in charge of your safety, and we _will_ be going. by. camel."

"Why not by car? I'm sure we still have some jeeps around here."

"It's far too obvious. Also, there is no guarantee that we will be able to make the whole journey along the road, and camels work far better than jeeps in the desert." She said nonchalantly, _'Also your brother is a vengeful bastard who doesn't like being called the Peasant Prince.'_

Kallen could see that the older woman was still fuming, but for the life of her, she just couldn't bring herself to care. Tuning the other woman out, she turned to survey the city, as a lord would survey his land. From her vantage point high on the palace walls, she could see the droves of citizens fleeing their homes. Egyptians and Britannians fled together, brought together by a shared fear of the oncoming invasion.

To the East, she could just about make out the plumes of smoke that were steadily being released into the air. The mass evacuation had brought panic to the citizens of Cairo, and naturally there were those who sought to take advantage of that. Looting and riots had broken out in some of the poorer areas of the city. Gino had quickly taken care of the rioters, as per Lelouch's orders, and now found himself organising and directing the civilian evacuation.

Kallen gritted her teeth as she thought of Lelouch. Despite her position as his personal Knight, Lelouch still believed that neither her, nor Gino for that matter, was fully ready to take a life. Kallen knew that she was a good pilot, a great one even. Her presence on the battlefield could easily mean the difference between loss and victory, and yet she was stuck here and left to babysit his pampered elder sister. Battle wasn't something that she wanted, but Lelouch might need her.

She started at the thought. Why should she care if he needed her? He had all but snatched her away from her family; her brother didn't think that she should trust him. She sighed internally. Regardless of what Naoto would think, she was still deeply indebted to the young Prince. He had done more for her country in two weeks, than she had done in two years. It pained her to admit it, but she needed his help, for more than just the liberation of Japan.

Insufferable bastard though he was, they were still friends. Nobody else could tease her like he did, make her feel angry and happy at the same time, or make her turn that specific shade of puce with just a few whispered words.

Her eyes wandered over to where the First Princess sat, arms crossed over her chest, pouting haughtily. A four day trip with only Princess Guinevere and a few silent soldiers for company was not an entertaining thought.

Kallen's eye twitched.

_'If Lelouch makes it back alive, I'm going to fucking kill him!'_

* * *

Five-hundred miles to the West, one poor Prince sneezed, as he mounted his Knightmare.

"I must be getting a cold." Lelouch shrugged.

_'Oh, you poor bastard.'_ Thought C.C. knowingly.

* * *

II

_On the first day after the Prince's departure, we toiled endlessly to prepare our defences. The Major, now lovingly referred to as 'The Orange Plague' by the men (probably because of the orange-ish dirt that he made every man rub meticulously onto their equipment for camouflage), became a hellish taskmaster. _

_Sometime past noon we were gifted with the sight of watching the 2__nd__ Mediterranean fleet of the Royal Navy sail hurriedly past our encampment, eager to seek out and do battle with the dreaded French Navy. The very same French Navy that had defeated Admiral Nelson at Trafalgar, and ousted the Britannian people some two-hundred and eleven years previous. _

_We dug trenches into the sand, starting at the walls of Mersa Matruh and stretching South, further than the eye could see, all the way to the cliffs. We piled banks of rock and mud, and dug pits for our old tanks and any artillery pieces that we wouldn't mind losing. None of these weapons would stand up to a proper KMF in a one-on-one fight, so we dug them into the defences, leaving the long barrels of their weapons sticking out through the other end of the sand banks. _

_The road, we left untouched. Apparently, the major had a plan for the Frenchies that involved the road, but we weren't told nothing. In front of the trenches we poured soft sand, up to a point about one-hundred metres in front of our lines. The ground was treacherous for any machine to cross, as we sowed parts of the field with anti-tank mines. They would do little against a KMF, but they would stop almost anything else in its tracks. The sand would do more damage to the Knightmares; getting stuck inside their landspinners, and causing the leg joints to seize up. Any remaining KMF's had their landspinners removed, which would allow them to move about better than the French KMF's when it came down to close combat. _

_We worked from dawn till tea, before the Major called a halt. _

_"Rest up, lads! They'll come with nightfall, you can be sure of that!"_

_The rest of the day, we did nothing. The grog ration was passed out early; they didn't want some youngster who couldn't hold his liquor to be drunk when the enemy reached. We sat in the dust, whittling away at the time, talking idly between us. _

_The more level-headed of us wrote letters to anyone and everyone we knew, to be delivered should the worst happen. The RSM would wander by every half an hour and yell at us to inspect our weapons, while the more senior officers spent their time dressing themselves in full battle regalia. _

_Looking back on it, everyone had their own way of dealing with the fear. _

_An hour after night fell, the officers formed us up on a makeshift parade ground. They all looked so very dashing and debonair in their uniforms; their maroon coats and gold trim just catching the flickering neon light. _

_Less than half of them would survive the night. _

_"Gentlemen." The major began his address. "Scouts report that the head of the French column is less than an hour to the West of us. They have also informed me, that our enemy numbers almost twenty thousand men." _

_Murmurs of unrest rippled through the ranks, unencumbered and unfettered._

_"The 11__th__ Division of the French has been joined by a regiment from Malta as well. Similarly, the 3__rd__ Home Fleet has left port, and is heading eastwards to provide support. Simply put, gentlemen, they intend to wipe us off the face of the Earth."_

_He paused as he looked at us, and I could see in that moment why the Prince had chosen this man as his second. He was a wolf; dangerous and tenacious, the very attributes that have so often been aligned with Britannia._

_"Our enemy expects us to run. To flee. To abandon our duties and our people, just to save ourselves. In his haste to destroy us, our enemy has forgotten one thing, one desperately important thing…"_

_He grinned wolfishly at the men, pacing back and forth along the dirt, in an unconscious mimicry of the Prince, our Prince. _

_"WE ARE BRITANNIANS!" He roared, throwing his voice to the heavens, like an old lion snarling out a battle cry against a younger foe. _

_"We fight because we must. For our Prince, for our people we must fight; it is our solemn duty to Britannia. We shall never retreat, nor surrender to the tyranny that seeks our demise, for to surrender means relinquishing our duties to our fellow countrymen."_

_The men were hollering now, yelling their approval. After all, what soldier doesn't dream of being the righteous hero now and again? The Major waited for us to calm, for our tempers to cool before he spoke again, his voice solemn and full of sincerity._

_"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the armies of the Holy Britannian Empire and the Areas last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour'."_

_'Diaries from the Front: The First North African Campaign,' BBC, 2022_

* * *

Lance-Corporal John Rouse Merriott Chard was not unused to death. His whole family had been in the military, and he had been brought up with tales of an honourable and glorious death on the battlefield, in service of the Empire. When he was a child, his parents had placed a framed copy of 'Dulce et Decorum Est…' above his bed, just to remind him of his 'duty to Britannia.'

He hated his parents.

As the second son of a second son of a minor noble house, he had wanted for little as a child, but similarly had been given little either. He had essentially been raised by his elder brother; a towering behemoth of a man unlike any other he had ever met, or was likely to meet again. As a child, his world had revolved around his big brother; his word was law as far as Rouse was concerned.

The lumbering giant had been the one to teach his brother how to read, how to ride a bicycle, how to play rugby and enjoy the finer points of chess (the two favourite pastimes of every true Britannian). Rouse loved his brother dearly, more deeply than he cared to express. He had been the only person to truly care for his little sibling, and had always been the sturdy rock that Rouse could always count on. His brother had been the one to give him a reason to join the military and follow in his illustrious footsteps.

Albert James Chard II was shot dead on 7th April 2009, on guard duty in Area 14.

Rouse had been notified almost three weeks later, after returning home from Basic Training. Nobody had cared to notify him earlier. The only thing his parents said was that with his death, Al had done 'his solemn duty to Britannia.'

Hearing his parents' words echoed back to him by the major had been a stark reminder of a childhood he had tried to leave behind, of memories he had tried to forget, of emotions he thought he had buried.

Sitting in the dusty trench in the Egyptian desert, in pitch black darkness, Rouse felt true fear for the first time since the passing of his only brother. He could hear his comrades behind him; laughing and joking nervously in the dark. The major had finished his address a little more than an hour ago, and still there had been no sign of the enemy.

"Oi. Rousey." How he loathed that nickname. "You alright?"

He forced a thick smile onto his face before he turned to regard his youthful companion. Lenny was a good sort, but he was far too young and dumb to understand the gravity of the situation. Having just turned seventeen, Lenny was one of the few still caught up in the bravado and bluster of the major's speech.

"Just fine, Len. Now pipe down or the captain will have our hides."

"Nah, he's checking his equipment; he won't be back for a few minutes."

Without invitation, he plonked himself down in the sand next to his friend, before he reached for his canteen.

"Want some?" He offered as he took a swig. "I swear it's only water."

A wry smile graced Rouse's face. "I'm fine, thanks."

His smile disappeared as he saw his friends hands shaking as he screwed the lid back onto his flask. His fingers slipped over the cold metal, fumbling for the clasp, as he stared into the inky blackness. Maybe he had misjudged Lenny. Maybe the runt was smarter than he let on.

"Don't worry about me." Lenny must have noticed his scrutiny. "I always get nerves before a big event. It's just excitement." He finished weakly, barely getting the words out.

Rouse placed one warming hand over those of his shivering friend, and gave him a comforting nod.

"Yeah… You're just excited."

There was no need for Rouse to pry any further. Each man in the army would have to confront his own fear and find a way to deal with it. If Len dealt with his dread through stubbornness and false bravado, who was he to question that.

They huddled in the sand for what felt like hours, slipping in and out of a restless sleep.

They were abruptly awakened by the dull boom of distant artillery fire. They could hear men crying and yelling in the far off trenches as the French bombardment began. Fiery red flashes lit up the battlefield, as the shells exploded in front of the Britannian lines. Soon they began to hear the whining crack of machine gun fire, much closer to them, as the EU forces approached their position.

"Up! Everybody up! On yer feet!" The Captain roared hoarsely, as he pulled an unfortunate Corporal to his feet by the scruff of his neck. "To yer stations!"

Rouse slung his rifle across his back before he grabbed Lenny by the arm and hauled him towards the makeshift mortar that they had set up earlier in the day. Lenny quickly got to work, grabbing one of the ridiculously oversized mortar rounds from off the ground, as Rouse adjusted the angle of the tube.

Lenny's nervous fingers fumbled over the bombs, his hands slipping as they shook in fear. His first attempt to load the mortar failed miserably as his shaking simply dropped the mortar at his feet.

"Careful!" Rouse roared, indignantly, before he shoved Len into his recently vacated position. "I'll load, you aim. Got it?"

Len nodded fearfully, before he crouched down, head in his hands, in the traditional brace position.

"Fire in the hole!" Rouse howled, before he dropped the mortar into the tube, whipping his hands away from the danger.

The mortar soared high into the air, disappearing very quickly from view, before a blinding flash erupted a few hundred metres in front of them, catching a group of advancing French infantrymen. As the field of view flashed in and out of view, Rouse caught sight of a single Knightmare, bogged down in the sand, unable to move.

"New target! Bearing: 020 degrees right, two-hundred metres ahead."

Len got to work adjusting the mortar, as Rouse smoothly loaded another shell. "Fire in the hole!" He yelled again, completely unnecessarily (but Rouse loved saying it, even at such a dire moment), and watched with morbid satisfaction as he saw it explode on the chest of the Knightmare, casting its smoking carcass onto the dunes.

Their work carried on for almost an hour more. When they couldn't see the French soldiers, Rouse would send up a white phosphorous round; illuminating the battlefield and half-blinding him. His section of the line had been relatively quiet. They were well away from the road and nicely protected from KMFs and tanks by the generous swell of the sand banks in front of them.

Rouse's hands had begun to bleed and blister from his work. Blotchy burns dotted his arms, showing that he hadn't always moved himself far enough away from danger to escape completely unscathed.

Arcs of fire and lightning streaked across the sky, trailing death and destruction, as the larger guns behind them set to work. The men could still hear the dull ominous explosions occurring over the next dune, they could still see the fires that were burning in the no man's land between the two armies. For about five minutes, they heard nothing but the shouts and screams from the other trenches, the groans and cries of the countless dead and dying that littered the dunes and trenches, and the metronomic sound of the Britannian guns.

Compared to the havoc of the previous hour, it was almost peaceful.

Rouse should have known that it couldn't last.

With the mechanised roar of heavy artillery, the ground in front of the trenches erupted, spraying hot sand in the faces of the Britannian defenders. French shells whined terribly overhead, as the skies darkened with artillery fire. Burning metal split apart the darkness every few moments, as the French field guns rained fire and brimstone on the defenders.

Rouse heard a scream, not far from where he was standing, as a section of the trench just vanished under the withering gaze of the French guns. The twenty men that had huddled there for protection were instantly burned to ash, as their barricades were blown to pieces around them.

The Britannian guns roared their response; a pounding volley that delivered deadly retribution for every Britannian life lost. Over the sound of the punishing ordnances, Rouse could just make out the wail of a shell, growing in pitch and strength. Before he could make out what was happening, he was tackled to the ground by Len, his head tucked firmly into his friend's chest in a protective embrace.

For a split second there was silence, quickly followed by the inhuman sound of an explosion, right next to them. The two soldiers were thrown back through the air, slamming heavily into the trench wall, where they lay limp, still holding each other tightly, as if to shield the other from the blast. Flames followed the blast, ravaging the once strong defences as they spread mercilessly on a desert wind.

Silence fell once more upon the trenches.

* * *

_Darkness._

"… pen … eye … ousey..."

_Screams._

"… get… up… bastard..."

_Fire._

Rouse wrenched his eyes open forcefully. He stared blankly up at Len, unable to make out more than a few words of what his friend was saying. A shrill ringing echoed around his head, drowning out the sounds of the battle around him. Blind panic set in as he reached his hand towards his ears before they were gently caught by Len.

"Come…. on…. we … nearly… there." He could just about hear his friend over the infernal droning that still racked his head. His drowsy thoughts drifted aimlessly, as he let himself get dragged towards the safety of an overhanging sand bank.

Over the sharp ringing noise echoing in his ears, the sounds of battle began filtering through. Screams and crying and the ever present sound of gunfire could be heard once more.

He felt himself being propped up against the mud bank, all that was protecting them from the enemy fire, and wedged upright by his old army rucksack. He blanched as he took stock of the situation around him.

Their trench was gone.

The blast had collapsed the back of the trench onto the bunker hidden beneath them, most likely suffocating any poor soul trapped beneath. Burning debris littered the crater that had, only a few minutes previous, housed more than a dozen men. The blackened remains of the mortar stand remained upright, protecting the two young soldiers from the worst of the blast, but the firing tube had been almost completely destroyed.

"You just sit there, mate, and get comfy." Len said.

An outraged guffaw slipped through Rouse's lips, followed quickly by a hacking cough. "Dear Lord! You're treating me like an invalid." He regarded his friend's visage. "I daresay you're in a worse condition than I am."

Len grinned cheekily. "You're not wrong."

His face was caked in blood which was still oozing lazily from a sloppily bound head wound. The slowly spreading dark patch on his shoulder centred on a few razor sharp slivers of metal that had shredded part of his body armour and embedded themselves in the shoulder beneath.

"You're a lucky man Len. I reckon you've got hurt bad enough for them to send you back to Blighty (1)."

"That'll be the day."

Rouse nodded firmly back at his friend, a small smile on his face. "Have we got a radio?"

Len shook his head. "Benson had it, but he got fried."

Rouse winced heavily. "Nothing for it, then. Help me up, we've got to report to the Major. Get some reinforcements or something."

Len grabbed Rouse by his shoulder, grimacing as his torn muscles groaned in protest to the sudden exertion. Hefting him up onto his feet, they began trudging along the wreckage of their trench. They leant heavily on each other, both unable to walk unaided over any kind of distance.

They made slow progress across the deserted battlefield, both hindered by their wounds. Halfway through the rubble Rouse dumped his battle rifle, instead pulling a hand gun from the corpse of one of the officers. It was a fine looking weapon which the officer had probably bought with his own money, to replace the poorly made standard issue pistols.

Rouse stumbled when he pulled the gun from the corpse, but Len caught him quickly. "Easy there, Rousey."

He pointed off towards the North, where fires were still burning and the sounds of battle could still be heard. In the flashing glow of shells erupting and the flash of gunfire, Rouse could only just glimpse the towering structure of the G-1 Mobile Base, bunkered down on the broken road that lead back to Cairo.

"Almost there, mate." He grinned happily. "We're almost home."

His smile was infectious and Rouse felt the corners of his lips twitch and form a lethargic smirk that probably looked more like a grimace than anything else. He grasped Len's shoulder a little tighter, in an attempt to convey his gratitude to his friend.

It's incredible how situations can change so quickly.

A single shot rang out in the dark.

Len slumped limply to the floor, slowly dragging Rouse to the ground with him. Trapped under his friend, Rouse felt a wet warmth drip slowly, languidly down the back of his neck. He pushed his friend off of him, with the last of his strength, dragged himself over to a discarded pile of sandbags, propping himself up against them.

He dragged his pistol out of his holster and aimed it in the general direction that he had heard the shot from. Looming tall, a dark grey Knightmare broke through the shadows and flames that surrounded the rubble. It stood proudly, despite its blackened and dented exterior, in particular the obvious mortar wound on its shoulder.

Rouse pressed himself closer into the sandbags, before letting go of his pistol and letting his whole body sag and appear lifeless. He held his breath as the Knightmare took stock of the area, examining the bodies of the defenders in detail.

The Knightmare ground to a halt in the centre of the crater, before falling onto one knee and slowly powering down. With a hydraulic hiss, the KMF opened up and a figure dropped down to the ground.

In the shadows behind the Knightmare, Rouse's heart was in his throat; this was his chance.

The pilot crossed the field quickly, making its way towards a figure lying prone on the ground, a corpse, Rouse had assumed previously but evidently not. The pilot discarded the helmet as it walked, revealing long chestnut coloured hair that hung down to her waist.

Rouse blanched. The pilot was a woman. He wasn't a sexist, but the idea of killing a woman disturbed him greatly.

She reached the body quickly, before nudging his wound with her foot to see if he was alive. A soft whimper escaped from the body, but that was enough for the pilot. Pulling out a hand gun, she ruthlessly emptied the gun into the body. Not even bothering to look at the corpse, she turned back to her KMF, sliding another magazine into her gun as she walked.

Clambering nimbly back into the cockpit, she closed the hatch, sealing herself once more inside the machine. With a hum of electricity, she powered up the machine and pushed off.

She never noticed the grenade stuck underneath her chair.

The explosion tore through the cockpit, wreaking havoc on the machinery inside. Outwardly, the KMF barely shuddered as the grenade went off. The metal walls of the Knightmares skeleton were so thick that scarcely a sound escaped. The KMF stood frozen in the centre of the battlefield, thin tendrils of smoke winding their way out of the hatch and into the air.

Rouse stumbled tiredly towards the body of his friend. His muscles burned in exhausted protest as he turned the body round and laid Len on his back.

A perfectly round hole, about the size of a two pence piece, had been blown clean through his head. Rouse gagged, his stomach churning violently at the sight of the body. Len stared up at him, through sightless eyes, the ghost of a smile etched permanently onto his face.

Mechanically, he leaned forwards to close Len's eyes, folding his hands together over his chest as a mark of respect. In a numb stupor, Rouse detached Lens helmet from his belt, before placing it on his head to cover the gaping wound.

Turning away from the corpse, he began to trudge northwards through the mud and sand, towards the command centre. Far off in the East, the suns light had just begun to peek over the towering dunes, banishing the darkness in its path.

The first battle of the war had begun in earnest.

* * *

AN: I've left this story alone for a while, but I'm not finished with it. I thought that the slightly more visceral second half of the chapter was necessary, as previously most of the battle scenes had been from within KMFs, where I don't think the full damage of battle is seen.

_(1) _Blighty: Colloquial term for Britain, popular in use for soldiers in both World Wars. I've used it here to mean Britannia.

R&R.

Thanks,

Penhaligon


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